


before you came

by autoheart



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-19 09:35:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 29,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16532003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autoheart/pseuds/autoheart
Summary: "On the day before you came/ every view I ever saw was never good enough/ and there was little in my life that I was proud of."Summary: Nothing in Arthur’s life fits. He lives in a house that’s too big for him with his father that’s too distant. Every little detail of his life feels slightly off. Until it doesn’t.





	1. prologue

Arthur didn’t fit. He felt he had been born wrong. He wasn’t sure what about him was wrong, but he was. Maybe it was that he was born in the wrong time, but he couldn’t fathom a time that would have made any more sense. Then he wondered, perhaps, if he had been born to the wrong parents, but his mother couldn’t be held much at fault, passing as early in his life as she did, and any child that Uther could have begotten would have been wrong; Uther was not, and would never be, father material. With his mother dead, and his father as good as such, Arthur was very much alone. And he wasn’t good at making his own lot in life any better. 

He had a hard time reaching out to people his age. Or people in general. He just couldn’t connect. He couldn’t, as incomplete as he felt. He felt he was a puzzle with the most integral pieces missing; a corner or two, perhaps even the very centerpiece, had been left out of the box of his very existence. He felt that if only someone could come along and fish those missing pieces out from whatever abyss they had fallen into, make his square-shaped life fit into the circle the universe had carved out for him, he would be okay. But no one ever did. No one, he settled, ever would. 


	2. Chapter 2

“This is Merlin,” Uther said, cheerily, his arm around a boy about the same age as Arthur.

They stood in the foyer of the Pendragon estate, both looking entirely out of place. Uther hadn’t been home in months and Merlin was a stranger.

Arthur stood stock still on the main staircase where he had been surprised by the two men 

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur said, turning his attention away from him almost instantly. He looked to his father. “Who is he?”

“A ward. A scholarship student from Camelot Preparatory,” Uther continued. Arthur eyed the boy again. He didn’t recognize him from school, but that didn’t mean much. Merlin was a scrawny, shy looking boy, the type that liked to blend in when they had the choice. .

“A ward? Whose?” 

“Ours.” 

_“Ours?”_

Arthur was stunned for a moment. Uther was hardly home. Why he would take on an extra child when he barely took the time to _look_ at his own was beyond Arthur. Besides, this was hardly an enriching environment for someone “less fortunate,” as he was sure Uther would so delicately put it. Arthur was the only person that actually lived in the house, if you didn’t count the cook who came to make meals and the housekeeper who came every two days to clean the barely touched rooms, and he would be the first to say it was a lonely existence. Unless- _of course_.

 

“Father, I don’t need a live-in playmate, if that is what you are getting at. I am sixteen,” Arthur said, tensely.

“I know you don’t,” Uther said, looking more than a bit caught. “I didn’t take him on for your sake. Merlin’s uncle housed him previously and must move away, and, being an old friend of mine, asked me to look after him until he finishes school this summer. “

Arthur eyed the other boy. Merlin returned his gaze with an equal distaste.

“And,” Uther continued, “I have been told he is an excellent French tutor, and I know someone in this house who is at risk of failing that subject. He’s been kind enough to agree to help you, Arthur.”

“I don’t need a live in tutor, either, Father,” Arthur fumed.

“Your marks say otherwise. He’ll be staying in the room across from yours. Would you be so kind to show him there?” Uther continued, his request not a question but an order.

“My pleasure,” Arthur spat, turning on the stair and walking towards his wing, not waiting for Merlin.

“And the rest of the house, Arthur!” Uther called behind him.

 

He was at the entrance of the hall when he heard the other boy’s hurried steps catch up to him.

“Do you two usually speak about people as if they aren’t there?”

“I couldn’t tell you, because we don’t _usually_ speak,” Arthur replied, not turning to look at Merlin.

“To be clear, I don’t want to be your tutor or your _playmate_ anymore than you want me to be,” Merlin added, a note of acid in his voice. “I fought Giaus on this but he insisted.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Me, living with _Arthur Pendragon._ I suppose some would consider me lucky.”

“So you’ve heard of me? I can’t say I’ve heard of you.”

“I’m not surprised. Your head is too far up your own arse.”

Arthur halted.

Merlin bumped in to him.

“Sorry.”

“I hardly noticed. My head being up my arse and all.”

“Sorry,” Merlin repeated, quietly.

“This will be your room. You have an en suite. I’m here,” Arthur ignored his apology,  motioning to the door across the hall. “You should have everything you need in your own room, so you shouldn’t have to deal with me much at all.”

 

“Except for when I tutor you,” Merlin said, opening the door and peeking inside.

“You aren’t going to do that,” Arthur grumbled.

“How I wish you were right. However, your father gave me _detailed_ instructions on the ways in which I am to report back to him on your progress,” Merlin replied, leaning against the door frame of his new room.

“Forge it,” Arthur quipped.

“In your handwriting,” Merlin added.

“Of course,’ Arthur sighed. “Well, if you’re not going in the room I suppose I ought to show you the rest of the house.”

 

He led Merlin down the hall, showing him the library, the home theatre, the formal sitting room, the informal sitting room, other rooms that had names but no purpose. Merlin followed, incredibly close, always on the verge of bumping in to Arthur. Arthur turned to glare at him on several occasions, each time being met with a boy that looked terribly uninterested. When Merlin realized Arthur was looking at him, it always took him a moment to remember he was supposed to glare back. Once, he even smiled at Arthur pleasantly before reframing it as a scowl, remembering who he was looking at. Arthur shook his head, utterly confounded by the other boy. He seemed determined to return Arthur’s brackishness, but it didn’t come to him naturally.

 

They went down the back stairs, through the kitchen, and back around to the foyer. Uther had disappeared, as he always did. Arthur started his trek up the main stairs again.

“Dinner is usually at six,” he called to Merlin, who was scurrying up the stairs behind him.

“What do I do until then?”

“That, _Mer_ lin, is not my problem,” Arthur said, and went back down the hall to his bedroom.

  
  


A few minutes later, he heard the door across the hall open and close quietly. He wondered if he should have been kinder. Maybe, he thought, it would be nice to have someone else in the house. He wasn’t really mad at Merlin, after all. Uther seemed to think that Merlin was the answer to all of Arthur’s problems. His bad grades, his loneliness, his father’s  absentee parenting method. No matter what his father said to deny it, Arthur could tell he thought Merlin was was the quick fix. But it was too little too late. Arthur had already taught himself how to be alone; he had had sixteen years to come to terms with it. Of course, only when he had finally gotten comfortable with it would Uther try to remedy it. He felt like he shouldn’t punish Merlin for Uther’s neglect, but he was there and Uther wasn’t.

 

Arthur fell back on his bed, listening. He was used to the house being completely, utterly, painfully silent. He was sure he was imagining it, but he swore he could hear Merlin across the hall. He could hear unfamiliar creaks, small bumps that sounded like closets and drawers opening and closing, the clicks of a computer keyboard. He found himself wondering what Merlin was like, what he did at school, why he had never seen him. From far away he looked small and unassuming, somehow shorter than he was, but up close he was just a hair taller than Arthur and not as scrawny as Arthur had originally discerned. Arthur had always assumed skinny meant weak, but when Merlin moved, Arthur could see the outline of muscle under the fabric of his shirt.

 

Arthur tried to move his mind from the other boy, but after having the house more or less to himself for so many years, the presence of another person was deafening. He couldn’t push his thoughts away from Merlin, the way he walked too close, the way his accidental smile played upon his face, the way he started out trying to be mean, like Arthur was, but failed to keep up the ruse. Arthur thought that it was almost worse that Merlin was pretending to be mean, and was bad at it at that, because it pulled at his long unaffected heartstrings in a way that made him uncomfortable.

 

He would be damned if he let his father get what he wanted. He vowed he would not be bettered by Merlin’s presence. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to be civil. Or maybe even go so far as to be friendly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VW4RnQEYrXE  
> ^^ song that the title is based on//the band i got my pseud from. 
> 
> It feels so weird to start publishing this. I've been working on it since March and I really never thought I would finish, but here we are. If I can restrain myself I think I will upload on M/W/F but I might just.... do it quicker who knows. Anyway, I'm pretty sure this is my longest Merlin fic to date and I'm pretty happy with it. Annnnd as I've said before, I will come up with absolutely any excuse to write getting together/fluff, and this is my excuse this time. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> aurthurheart.tumblr.com  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

When it neared dinner time, Arthur left his room, crossing the hall and lifting his fist to Merlin’s bedroom door. He let out a breath and knocked.

No answer.

Arthur knocked again.

He heard slow movement on the other side. Merlin opened the door halfway, only sticking his face out.

“What?” Merlin asked.

“I was just letting you know I’m heading down to the kitchen, if you’d like to come,” Arthur said, carefully.

Merlin looked at him, his face void from expression.

“I wouldn’t.”

“For dinner. Dinner will be ready soon,” Arthur clarified, confused.

“I know. I would not like to come.”

“Oh.”

“Goodnight.”

“Would you like me to bring you something?” Arthur asked, blocking the door with his foot  just before it closed.

“I said goodnight.”

 

Arthur pulled his foot back and let the door close in front of him, wondering if his initial outburst with Merlin, which wasn’t really about Merlin at all, had ruined any chances he had had at this living arrangement being pleasant. He raised his fist to knock again, to explain himself, but thought better of it. He walked to the kitchen, despite his sudden lack of appetite, and wondered what he could do to turn things around.

  


* * *

 

Uther had not been at dinner. Arthur had not been surprised. He would have asked if his father had left the house already if his presence would have made any difference, but it wouldn’t have. His stays in the house were as uneventful as his absences. Arthur had picked at his plate intermittently, more out of politeness to the cook, Lana, than actual hunger.

“Where is our guest?” Lana asked. She was an older woman and looked every bit as motherly as a private cook of her age was expected to look, but she lacked warmth. Arthur was sure that his father had hired Lana in hopes that she would be something of an adoptive mother to Arthur, but it was just another half-assed attempt at parenting that didn’t pan out.

“He wasn’t hungry. Homesick,” Arthur lied, moving a piece of broccoli around his plate.

“I’m sure,” Lana replied, picking up the extra plate and making to scrape it into the bin.

“Don’t!” Arthur cried, surprising even himself. “I just- I thought maybe I would take it up with him, in case he changes his mind.”

Lana paused, studying Arthur as if he were a stranger.

“That’s very… thoughtful of you, Arthur,” Lana said, setting the plate back down on the bar. “I’ll get a tray for you.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said quietly.

 

He was sure that Merlin wouldn’t answer the door. Arthur doubted he would be asleep, it being only twenty minutes past six, but Merlin had made it rather clear that he didn’t want to see him again that night. Still, Arthur didn’t think he could focus knowing that Merlin was in the house, upset with him. He walked carefully up the stairs, balancing a glass of water on the tray along with Merlin’s dinner.

He stood awkwardly in front of Merlin’s door for a minute, trying to figure out how to hold the tray and knock on the door at the same time. He settled finally on setting the tray down on the floor in front of the door and knocking gently. Rather than waiting for Merlin to answer, and inevitably tell him to fuck off, he hurried across the hall to his own room. He heard Merlin’s door opening just as his own clicked shut. He listened, hearing the clink of silverware skidding on the tray as Merlin presumably lifted it and brought it into his room. Arthur smiled to himself, feeling something akin to triumph. It was just dinner, and it wasn’t as though he had gone above and beyond, seeing as it was his behavior that had driven Merlin away to begin with, but it felt as though Merlin had accepted his peace offering. He realized that is was possible Merlin had not known it was a peace offering, but Merlin was smart. Right?

 

Arthur went to sleep that night feeling hopeful.

  


* * *

 

It was Friday. Arthur had a hard time getting to school on time most days, but Friday was particularly hard when the promise of the weekend and sleeping in was just within reach.

 

He wandered into the kitchen a mere hour before school started, finding Merlin sitting there, fully ready to go in his Camelot Prep uniform, eating a piece of peanut butter toast.

“You’re up early,” Arthur said, as pleasantly as he could manage having just woken up.

“You’re up late,” Merlin replied, taking a bite of his breakfast.

“I have plenty of time.”

“The school is 45 minutes away with morning traffic,” Merlin pointed out.

“And?”

“I don’t want to be late,” Merlin continued.

 

Shit. Of course. He drove himself to school, so it would only follow that now he would be taking Merlin.

“Right,” Arthur sighed. “How much will you hate me if we’re five minutes late?”

“It wouldn’t make me like you any better, as my attendance affects my scholarship. Not that you would understand, _Pendragon,_ ” he pronounced Arthur’s surname like it was a dirty word. “I’m sure you get away with murder.”

“Listen,” Arthur said, resisting rising to Merlin’s bait. “If you make me a piece of that toast while I get dressed, I’ll get you to school on time.”

“Now we’re bargaining, are we?” Merlin said, raising his eyebrows. “I won’t be your manservant in return for you not making my life hell.”

“We’re not bargaining,” Arthur said, backing out of the kitchen and heading for his bedroom. “I’m just trying to get out of the house on time and asking for your help. It’s called being a decent person, Merlin. You know how to do that, right?”

“Yes,” Merlin’s voice followed him down the hall. “I just didn’t know you did,” he added, in a voice barely audible from where Arthur stood.

 

Arthur got dressed in a whirlwind, his tie crookedly hanging in yesterday’s knot, his shirt tail only half tucked in. He skipped brushing his hair in favor of brushing his teeth and toed into his shoes, tying them loosely in what he was sure would be short lived bows. He hurried down the stairs, picking up his backpack and blazer from where he had discarded them in the foyer the afternoon before.

 

“Ready,” he said, sticking his head into the kitchen as he pulled his arm through the blazer. He hurried from the kitchen to the front door, grabbing his keys from the bowl by the door as he went.

The engine on his black Land Rover revved as he pressed the remote start button.

“Merlin!” he called behind him, jumping as the other boy’s reply came much closer than he expected.

“I’m right here,” he said, rolling his eyes. “What, you can’t hear me over your big, fuck-off engine?”

“Oi, leave the car alone,” Arthur replied, hoisting himself into the driver’s seat.

Merlin found his place in the passenger’s seat, handing Arthur a napkin with the piece of toast he had asked for.

“This car costs more than my life,” Merlin said, buckling his seatbelt.

“I don’t know, I hear organs go for Land Rover prices on the black market,” Arthur quipped, bracing a hand on the back of Merlin’s seat as he looked over his shoulder to backout.

Merlin huffed a breath that was almost a laugh, and Arthur allowed himself to count it as a win.

 

They rode to school in relative silence. Arthur gave Merlin control of the radio, which wasn’t as terrible as he had expected. It wasn’t music that he had heard before, but it wasn’t terrible.

Merlin hummed along, only occasionally singing the words.

“ _You are my delightful intruder_ ,” Merlin sang along, almost under his breath.

Arthur caught himself smiling again. It was nice, he decided, having someone in the car with him, even if they weren’t talking to each other. He normally didn’t like when people made too much noise in the morning, but Merlin’s voice was pleasant, silvery even when he was barely singing.

 

Merlin startled Arthur out of his thoughts.

 

“Did you even brush your hair?” Merlin asked, eyeing Arthur from the passenger’s seat.

“No, _someone_ was rushing me,” he replied, turning in to the school car park.

“Well, maybe if you got up at a decent hour, _someone_ wouldn’t have to rush you,” Merlin retorted. “Besides, it’s wouldn’t be fair if  they were late because you’re lazy.”

“I’m not used to other people being affected by my habits,” Arthur said, pulling into his usual parking space. “Merlin, listen. We’re here on time, early even,” he added, glancing at the dash clock, “ but it won’t happen again. I honestly didn’t even realize that I’d be driving you.”

Merlin was quiet for a moment.

“Are you really the only one that lives in that big house? All the time?” Merlin asked.

“Except for my birthday and Christmas, yes,”  Arthur said, a bit strained.

Merlin nodded, looking away.

Arthur pushed his seat all the way back so he could pull up his feet and retie his shoes with proper bows.

He opened his door and hopped out, Merlin following suit. Merlin stood by awkwardly, his backpack hanging from one shoulder, as Arthur tucked the rest of his shirt in.

“Better?” he asked Merlin, blindly rearranging his hair as he did so.

“Your tie is terrible,” Merlin said, stepping forward and untying the days-old knot.

“Don’t do it too neatly,” Arthur said, trying to ignore how shallow his breathing had become at Merlin’s proximity. His messy hair was almost entirely forgotten. There was something about the whole situation that felt intimate for reasons that Arthur couldn’t pin down.   

Merlin chuckled, but his eyes remained intent on the tie he was working with.

“Of course. We can’t have you looking dignified, now, can we?”

Merlin finished tying Arthur’s tie and stepped away.

“How’s that?”

Arthur looked at his reflection in the window of his car. His tie was tied properly now but hung just loose enough to merit a write up from the headmaster. It was just how he usually wore it. His eyes darted to Merlin’s reflection, just behind him.

“Why are you helping me?”

He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but it was there, hanging in the air between them.

Merlin’s reflection looked smugly back at him, clearly amused.

“It’s called being a decent person, Pendragon,” he said, turning on his heel to walk towards his homeroom. “Meet you here after school?”

Arthur sputtered “Yeah, see you here.”

It was going to be a long day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, maybe upload schedule will be a little quicker than anticipated, I had a little extra time today to edit, so here is the next bit early. 
> 
> tumblr: arthurheart.tumblr.com  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur well and truly did not know how he had never noticed Merlin before. They had three classes together. Maths, English, and history, which were, to Arthur’s great pleasure, his best classes. Not that he wanted to impress Merlin. He just didn’t want him to think he was an idiot all the time. But now that he had been awakened to Merlin’s existence, it felt like the other boy was  _ all  _ he could see. Three rows ahead of him in maths, four seats to his left in English, two rows behind him and to his right in history. He spoke a lot in class, and when he gave an answer to the professor, he was always right. And yet, his voice held no familiarity. He didn’t even recognize Merlin’s surname in the roll list. Emrys. It was strange enough not to have forgotten it. It was as if Merlin had been spoken into existence the moment he walked in to Arthur’s house and was somehow fit into parts of life he hadn’t occupied before seamlessly. The whole day he felt as though his eyes were glued to Merlin. Merlin never looked back.

In the lunch room, he sat on the complete opposite side of the room from where Arthur sat  with the football team. 

“What are you looking at?” Eli, one of his footie mates, asked, settling in the seat beside him and trying to follow his line of vision. 

“Nothing. Staring off into space,” Arthur said, tearing his eyes away from Merlin. He wasn’t embarrassed that he knew Merlin, and he wouldn’t be bothered if his friends knew about his new housemate if he was ready to share him. But he wasn’t. 

He worried that once the others saw Merlin, they would find him just as interesting as Arthur did. His mind had been arrested by Merlin since that morning, reminding the closeness of his face as he had fixed Arthur’s tie, the way he knew exactly how Arthur liked it to lay, the way that he seemed to almost be willing to try being friends if Arthur did. 

Arthur fingered the knot of his tie for a moment, his stomach tightening each time he had to stop himself from looking over to Merlin, before standing abruptly. 

“Where are you going?” Eli, asked, taken aback.

“Forgot something in my car,” Arthur mumbled, and hurried out of the lunchroom. 

 

He hurried out to the car park, unlocking his car and climbing inside. He sat back and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He was overwhelmed. Maybe, he thought, it was good that no one had lived in the house with him before if this is how he reacted. Surely, with someone invading his space, it only made sense they would take up real estate in his mind. 

 

He jumped as he heard the passenger door open, turning to find Merlin climbing in. 

 

“You know there’s still two hours of classes left,” Merlin said casually. 

“I’m not leaving, I was just sitting,” Arthur said.

“Good, because if you left me here, I don’t have your phone number or address and I wouldn’t have a way back,” Merlin replied, settling into his seat. 

“Do you want my card?” Arthur asked.

“Your card? You have a business card? At sixteen?” 

Arthur adjusted so he could pull his wallet from his back pocket. He opened it and took out a white card with gold lettering on one side and his family crest embossed in red on the opposite.

“Christmas gift from my dad,” he said, handing it to Merlin. 

 

Merlin turned the card over in his hand, running his finger over the family crest. He flipped it back to the side with Arthur’s information and typed it into his phone. He peeled back the case of his phone, which was clear black plastic, and slid the business card crest side out into the back. When he clipped the case back into place, Arthur could just make out the red crest through the plastic. Merlin didn’t seem to notice. 

 

“Why are you sitting out here all by yourself?” 

“Why did you follow me?” 

“To make sure you didn’t strand me,” Merlin shrugged. 

“Then what does it matter to you that I’m out here if you know I’m not going to strand you?” Arthur asked. 

“Seems like something’s bothering you,” Merlin answered.

“You don’t like me,” Arthur blurted. 

“That’s what’s bothering you?”

“No. Yes. But that’s also why it’s weird that you’re out here asking me what’s wrong instead of one of my mates,” Arthur clarified. 

“No offense, but your mates seem as emotionally intelligent as a bunch of rocks. I could tell something was wrong from across the room and they barely even seemed to think it was strange you disappeared in the middle of lunch,” Merlin replied. 

“Well, at least they like me,” Arthur grumbled.

“I don’t think you’re all bad, Pendragon.” 

“Really?”

“Just half bad,” Merlin finished, opening the car door and hopping down. “Class starts in a few minutes.”

“You better be getting in then,” Arthur smiled at him. 

“You ought to go, too. If you applied yourself, you’d give us all a run for our money, Pendragon.” 

“Arthur,” he corrected Merlin.

“What?” 

“Call me Arthur.” 

Merlin studied him for a moment. 

“Right. Arthur. See you after class,” Merlin said finally.

  
  


Arthur watched as Merlin walked back across the car park, throwing a glance back at Arthur once before entering the building. Merlin was right. It was odd that none of his friends came to check on him. Not that they ever would have. He wasn’t close to any of them like that. Come to think of it, he wasn’t close to anyone like that. His stomach hurt at the thought that he never would have noticed if Merlin had never said anything. 

He wanted someone to come and check on him when he was clearly hurting. Or at least, he wanted the fact that he was hurting to be clear to someone. But even he wasn’t sure if hurting was the right word. Nothing bad had happened to him.  But Merlin’s sudden closeness had thrown his long-standing loneliness into sharp relief. Now that there was an opportunity to be close to someone, to be actually close, he was hit at full force with every emotion he had been ignoring for as long as he had been able to process them. 

More than that, he was angry that his father had been right. Uther  _ wanted _ Merlin and Arthur to become friends, and that made him want nothing more than to push Merlin away. But he was quickly learning that it was easier to push the idea of Merlin away than it was to push away the actual person. Because even when Merlin was trying his best to return Arthur’s initial acid, he couldn’t bring himself to be mean enough not to give a shit about Arthur. He couldn’t stop himself from being the only person to check on Arthur when he fled the lunch room. He couldn’t help himself from maybe halfway caring. 

 

And Arthur didn’t think he could help himself either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: aurthurheart.tumblr.com


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur hadn’t gone back to class. Instead, he had crashed the football skirmish he knew the team held on Friday afternoons. 

 

“Don’t you have class to be in, Pendragon?” the coach had called, seeing him on the field in full school uniform. 

Arthur shrugged. The coach shrugged in return. When your father was the main investor and star alumnus of your school, a shrug was usually the most severe disciplinary measure taken against you. 

 

He returned back to his car, sweaty and out of breath, to find Merlin  _ leaning  _ against the door. 

“Oi! Don’t scratch the paint,” Arthur called. 

Merlin didn’t move. 

“Will getting it repainted be a real hit to your pocketbook?” 

“No, but I can’t say it won’t be a real hit to your stomach,” Arthur replied, faking a punch towards the other boy as he passed him. 

Merlin flinched. 

“You wouldn’t dare,” Merlin said, narrowing his eyes at Arthur, who was walking around the front of the car to the driver’s side. 

“Oh, wouldn’t I? I could take you apart with one blow,” Arthur threatened, any weight in his words negated by the smile on his lips. 

Merlin seemed to be resisting returning Arthur’s smile, narrowing his eyes further and replying, “I could take you apart with less than that.” 

Arthur was hit with an immense feeling of deja vu. He was sure that even if Merlin hadn’t responded in such a way, those words would have rung through his brain all the same. The two boys stared at each other over the hood of the car, only lasting a few moments before Arthur burst out in nervous laughter. 

“Get in the car, you dolt,” Arthur said.

Merlin smiled properly for the first time since his accidental smile the night before, and Arthur’s heart tugged funnily in his chest. He nearly brought a hand to his chest to check that he was alright, the feeling being so unexpected. He stopped himself, turning on the car just to give his hands something to do. 

“What happened to you?” Merlin asked turning in his  to face Arthur, pulling his legs up onto the seat. 

“What do you mean? It’s not safe to sit like that.” 

“Sure is comfortable, though. You look like you ran a marathon,” Merlin replied. 

“Oh. I was playing football,” Arthur said, turning onto the main road.

“I thought you quit football.”

“Yeah. I still play when I want to. They let me do whatever I want, mostly,” Arthur replied.

“So I’ve heard,” Merlin said, fiddling with his shoe laces.

“Have you? Why is it that you’ve heard so much about me and I’d not heard your name until yesterday?” 

“We have class together. You’ve heard it, you just weren’t listening,” Merlin said. “You don’t make it a habit to notice things, Arthur.” 

 

Arthur was dumbstruck. Merlin spoke as if he knew Arthur, when he had no right to assume he did, and worst of all, he was right. 

 

“I suppose,” Arthur said quietly. 

 

“What are you doing tonight?” Merlin asked, expertly changing the subject.

“Nothing. Watching a movie or something, probably. Why?” 

“It’s Friday. I just figured you’d be doing something. You seem like someone that would have plans,” Merlin replied, pulling out his phone and busying himself.

“Oh. No. I don’t often have plans.” 

“Really? I’d think you’d take any opportunity to get out of that big lonely house,” Merlin replied.

“No, I-“ Arthur paused. Why didn’t he try to escape the house? The thought had truly never occurred to him. “I guess it’s easier not to.”

“Easy doesn’t mean better,” Merlin said, straightening up in his seat as they turned into Arthur’s- their- neighborhood. 

“I’ve been told I’m lazy,” Arthur said.

“Have you? They were right.”

Arthur didn’t look at the other boy but he thought he detected a smile in his cadence.

“What are you doing tonight then?” 

“Nothing.”

“Watching a movie with me?” 

“You- You want me to?” 

“It’s a bit silly if we’re both in the house doing nothing separately,” Arthur shrugged, pulling into the drive of their house. “Unless you still have settling in to do.” 

“No, I would like to,” Merlin said, waning eager. “Only if you change out of that first,” he added, wrinkling his nose in distaste. 

Arthur looked down at his sweat rumpled shirt.

“Sorry, I didn’t know there was a dress code to watch a movie in my own house.” 

“There is now,” Merlin said as Arthur shut off the car. He smiled again. 

Arthur felt the tug at his chest again, somehow stronger this time. The pull was familiar and strange all at the same time. He felt as though he had been feeling that twinge in his chest towards Merlin for his whole life, but before he knew Merlin, he had never been able to identify what it was pulling him towards. It was incredibly annoying. And somehow nice. 

  
  


They entered the house, Merlin somewhat awkwardly, seeming to try and mirror Arthur’s routine. Arthur dropped his bag by the door, and Merlin followed suit. Arthur dropped his keys in the bowl, and Merlin, not having any, didn’t. Arthur realized it was incredibly thoughtless for his father not to have a set of keys made for Merlin if he was going to be  _ living  _ with him, but then again, his father was incredibly thoughtless by nature.

 

“Are you hungry?” Arthur asked. 

“Very,” Merlin replied. 

Arthur pulled out his wallet and threw it to Merlin. 

“Lana is off until Sunday, so we’re on our own. Order something online and I’ll go pick it up after I take a shower.”

“What do you want? Which card do I use?” Merlin nearly shouted after Arthur as he went up the stairs, taking them two at a time. 

“Whatever. Whichever,” Arthur called back over his shoulder. 

“I don’t even know what you like to eat, Arthur,” Merlin said, exasperated. 

“Whatever you want is fine, Merlin! I’m getting in the shower,” Arthur replied, leaving the other boy looking rather anxious on the stairs. 

 

He showered hurriedly, drying off at lightning speed and throwing on a t-shirt and jeans. It was rare that he wore street clothes, as he usually went straight from his uniform to his pajamas, and his jeans had a stubborn crease down the leg from being folded so long, but they would have to do. He romped back down the stairs, finding Merlin sitting at the breakfast bar with his laptop. 

 

“I did pizza because that felt safe,” Merlin said, looking up from the computer and making a funny face upon seeing the other boy. “Your hair has consistently been something else today, S- Arthur.” 

“It’s  _ drying,”  _ Arthur said defensively. 

Merlin rolled his eyes and showed Arthur the place he had ordered from. 

Normally, with take out, Arthur would have had it delivered, but he had need to get out of the house that evening. He was going to get Merlin a key. Another peace offering, he hoped, to solidify his intentions to be nice. He drove quickly to the nearest hardware store and found the key machine, clicking through the options on the screen. He slipped the newly pressed key into his pocket. It felt warm, heavier than it should. He was letting Merlin in. To the house. He tried not to think it meant anything more than that. He went by the pizza place to pick up their order, which was huge even by teenage boy standards. A large pizza, garlic bread, two salads, and an order of baked ziti were all precariously perched on the passenger’s seat as he drove home. 

 

Arthur honked as he pulled into the driveway, not wanting to risk lugging it all in on his own. Merlin appeared in the doorway, relieving Arthur of one of the bags as he walked in. 

“Thanks,” Arthur said, carrying the pizza past Merlin and heading back towards the home theatre. 

‘Do we need utensils?” 

“In the bag.” 

“Plates?” 

“In the bag.” 

“Napkins?” 

“In the  _ bag,  _ Merlin,” Arthur huffed in annoyance. 

‘Drinks?”

“There’s a drink fridge in the movie room,” Arthur said, struggling to turn the door handle to said room with his hands full. 

Merlin reached past him from behind and turned the knob for him. Arthur could feel the warmth of Merlin’s body nearly pressed against him in the closeness the action had created. He found he rather liked it. He swallowed. 

“Thanks.” 

“Mmhm,” Merlin said in reply, and Arthur was disappointed with how quickly he moved away. 

He hurried into the room, setting the pizza on the side table between the two theatre chairs in the middle of the front row. 

‘What do you want to drink?” 

“Water is fine,” Merlin said, settling down into the seat on the left side of the pizza. 

Arthur hurriedly got the drinks and made to sit down, quickly becoming aware of how hungry he was. 

 

He set the glasses down quickly, turning just in time to see the one closest to Merlin teetering off the edge. He was about to curse, lamenting about how long it would take to mop up, but glad it was only water, when momentarily, time seemed to slow. Well, the glass did. It stayed tipped on the side for an unnatural amount of time, not incredibly long, but long enough to feel slightly  _ wrong,  _  before Merlin’s hand wrapped around it and righted it. Arthur blinked. Surely, it was his imagination, but it looked almost as if something had been suspending the glass in the air, preventing it from falling. 

He looked to Merlin, who seemed entirely unfazed by it all. 

Merlin caught him looking. 

“Close one,” he commenting, settling back into his seat. 

“Yeah,” Arthur said slowly, furrowing his brow.

 

“What are we going to watch?” Merlin asked, and Arthur couldn’t help but feel that Merlin was purposefully driving him away from the spill. Or the non-spill. 

“Whatever you want,” Arthur said absently, unable to think about anything else. 

 

There was something odd about that glass, and he felt- no, he was sure- that Merlin knew. He was almost equally as sure that Merlin had something to do with it. But what? What could he possibly have done to make it behave like that? Magnets? Surely not, because he had only been in the room the once, and Arthur had been with him and he hadn’t been anywhere near the glasses. Besides, if he was doing some weird impromptu parlor trick, wouldn't he be more performative about it? Wouldn’t he invite speculation, wouldn’t he encourage the attention instead of deliberately trying to lead Arthur away? 

 

“Arthur!” 

“Sorry, what? Were you talking?” 

“Only for like three minutes while you stared off into space like a complete weirdo. What are we going to watch?” Merlin said, biting into a piece of pizza. 

“Whatever you want I said.” 

“Like I was saying while you were on a different planet, can we quit the whole whatever you want bullshit? I know you’re trying to make up for being a dick yesterday, but it doesn’t suit you,” Merlin said, pointedly looking away. 

“I wasn’t trying to make up for being a dick, I just don’t mind what we watch,” Arthur replied. 

‘Hm. Really seemed like you were trying to make up for being a dick. Too bad, then. What do you want to watch?” 

  
  


Arthur studied Merlin, a knowing feeling sinking into his stomach. It felt like a memory, but it couldn’t have been, he’d only met just met Merlin. But something in his mind told him that the quippier Merlin got, the more likely he was trying to hide something. He knew in his gut that Merlin was trying to hide something now. He felt it with the certainty that he felt the sky was blue or that the earth was round. Somehow, he  _ knew  _ this about Merlin. 

 

“ _ Mer _ lin, what-” 

“Fine,” Merlin interrupted quickly. “I’ll choose.  _ Monty Python and the Holy Grail. _ ” 

Arthur let it slide, but only because Merlin was clearly teasing him. 

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Arthur sneered at Merlin as he sat in the chair next to him. 

“What?” Merlin said, feigning innocence. 

“You’re so clever, suggesting a movie about King Arthur to someone named Arthur,” Arthur replied. 

“I happen to be rather fond of King Arthur,” Merlin said quietly. 

“What, are you one of those people that has crushes on historical figures? King Arthur seems like a funny one to choose.” 

“I agree he’s a  _ terrible  _ choice, but why do you think so?” 

“Well, we don’t even know that he was real.The whole story is a bit fantastical, isn’t it? He’s likely a myth,” Arthur shrugged, picking out a piece of garlic bread. 

“Stranger things have happened.” 

“Merlin, I really don’t think they have,” Arthur laughed. “Ladies in lakes and wizards and the whole killer rabbit thing.” 

“Warlocks. And the rabbit was an artistic liberty, I am pretty sure,” Merlin said.

“Warlock?” 

“Yeah, I think they called themselves warlocks,” Merlin said dismissively. “Did you get all your knowledge of King Arthur from _ Monty Python? _

“Every ounce,” Arthur said, noting that Merlin seemed somewhat relieved by that. “Tell me, Merlin, from what you’ve read of him, have I inherited any of my namesake’s  royal qualities?” 

 

Merlin looked at him, his gaze notably softer as his eyes met his. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I think you did,” Merlin decided finally. 

”Woah there, be careful, you don’t want it to go to my head,” Arthur said, trying to ignore the way the admission made his pulse quicken. Sure, he had fished for it, but Merlin had nearly called him kingly. 

“I didn’t say the things you had inherited were good,” Merlin said, his smile betraying his intended meaning. He took another bite of his food. 

 

They were quiet for a moment before Arthur spoke again.

“Alright, you’ve convinced me, we can watch your precious King Arthur,” Arthur feigned a sigh and powered up the TV. He flipped through streaming services, finding a place to rent the film after a few minutes. 

“He’s not  _ precious _ ,” Merlin corrected Arthur. “He was actually a bit of an ass.” 

“Is he? Well, let’s watch your ass then- I mean,” Arthur stuttered, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. 

“Rather forward of you,” Merlin said, eyes glued to the screen.

“I misspoke,” Arthur mumbled, pressing play on the remote.

 

He had never really paid much attention to this movie before, watching it in the background of doing homework or something else he had deemed more important, yet many of the names felt terribly familiar. He supposed that that was the way things were when you were watching something based on such a prolific legend. But he felt there was something missing. There was a name just on the tip of his tongue. 

When they got to the scene with Tim the Enchanter, he realized what it was.

“There was sorcerer. King Arthur had a sorcerer,” Arthur blurted suddenly. 

“What?” 

“I was trying to remember what was missing from this movie. He had a sorcerer.”

“Warlock,” Merlin said, almost automatically, adding as an afterthought. “No, he didn’t.” 

“He did, Merlin, he had a court sorcerer- warlock, whatever-  I distinctly remember. His name was-” 

“Tim. The enchanter,” Merlin cut in. 

“His name was not  _ Tim _ ,” Arthur said. “They can’t have called people  _ Tim  _ in the middle ages.”

“But they called people Arthur?” 

“Well, yeah! Obviously,” Arthur said, scowling up at the screen. 

“His name was Tim, Arthur,” Merlin said, his voice odd. 

Arthur felt a foreign warmth spreading through him. He turned to look at Merlin. The other boy’s eyes looked strange, golden almost, but Arthur blinked and they returned to normal. It must have been a trick of the light from the images on the screen. 

“What were we talking about?” Arthur asked, his mind feeling fuzzy. 

“King Arthur’s court sorcerer,” Merlin supplied. 

“Oh. Right. Tim the Enchanter,” Arthur nodded, the words feeling wrong in his mouth though they were the only ones that he could find. 

“Yeah, him,” Merlin said, picking up another piece of the now cold pizza between them and tearing into it. 

 

***

By the time the credits rolled across the screen, Merlin had fallen asleep. Arthur had heard him snoring softly some time before, but thought it best not to wake him. He figured the first night in the house must not have been easy and he mustn’t have gotten a lot of sleep. He was sure he wouldn’t have, especially if he had been given such an unfriendly welcome. He cleared the food, putting the leftovers into the big kitchen fridge, then returned to the home theatre. He paused for a second, watching Merlin, debating on whether he should leave him for the night or wake him. He figured it would be rather unpleasant to wake up in the middle of the night in a chair halfway across the house, so he opted to wake him. 

 

“Merlin. Merlin, wake up. Hey,” he half whispered, jostling the other boy and then tapping his cheek when he was unresponsive. 

Merlin grunted sleepily, opening his eyes. 

“Hey you” Merlin smiled lazily at Arthur, pulling his hand away from his face and lacing his own fingers through Arthur’s. He appeared to startle into reality once he took in his surroundings and pulled his hand away from Arthur’s quickly. “I mean, hey,” he repeated, his voice devoid of its former warmth. 

 

Arthur was shaken by just how normal the interaction had felt until Merlin had broken the spell. He felt that Merlin was supposed to smile at him sleepily, to hold his hand, to say infuriatingly disarming phrases like “hey you” to him. It was yet another instance of feeling as though this was how it has always been with them, with the dichotomous knowledge that there hadn’t been an always between them, only two days.  _ Less  _ than two days. 

 

“Hey yourself,” Arthur replied, noticing a softness in his own voice that matched Merlin’s initial tone. 

Merlin’s forehead creased in confusion. 

“Was I sleeping?” 

“Yes,” Arthur replied, stepping back from the other boy. “Didn’t sleep well last night, I take it?” 

“The house is so quiet,” Merlin replied, stretching in his chair. 

“I hadn’t ever noticed until you showed up, thumping around in your room that way to break it up,” Arthur admitted.

“I don’t know how you’ve done it all these years without me, then,” Merlin said. 

Arthur felt a warmth in his cheeks that he was entirely unaccustomed to.

“Me either,” he replied, quietly, and felt it was uncomfortably true. “Oh,” Arthur said. “Nearly forgot. Got you this.” 

He rummaged through his pocket and produced the key, holding it out to Merlin. 

“Here.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Merlin said, surprised.

“Thought you should be able to get into your own house,” Arthur replied, extending a hand out to Merlin to help him up out of the chair.

“Right. My house. Our house,” he said carefully, taking the key and tucking it away. He took Arthur’s hand and pulled himself up. “I should probably go to bed,” Merlin said.

 

Arthur realized he wasn’t ready for the other boy to go, to be alone. Still, he nodded and stepped out of his way. 

“You remember the way back?” he asked, a bit stupidly.

Merlin rolled his eyes.

“The house isn’t  _ that _ big, Arthur,” he said, making for the door. “Though it is a bit spooky in the dark. If you would care to accompany me.” 

He nodded and followed Merlin into the hall. 

They walked wordlessly back to their rooms, pausing in the hall between them.

 

Arthur was met with an overwhelming urge to kiss the other boy. 

Merlin seemed to sense his thoughts, though he could have imagined his eyes darting to Arthur’s lips as he said, “Goodnight, Arthur.” 

“Goodnight,” he replied. The air hung heavy between them until Merlin went into his room, smiling at Arthur as he closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr: arthurheart.tumblr.com


	6. Chapter 6

Arthur fell into his bed face first once he got into his bedroom. He wasn’t one for crushes. Other people had never been terribly interesting to him. He had never felt like he got on with other people, not really, but he felt as though he had know Merlin for a thousand years. More, even. And Merlin was intriguing. He was unreadable to Arthur, which was something he shared with nearly every other human Arthur had ever encountered, apart from his father, but the difference was he  _ wanted  _ to be able to read Merlin. And he felt like maybe one day, he would be able to. He decided that that must be what a crush felt like. And that certainly wasn’t what Uther had in mind when he brought Merlin there. He found himself wanting to start French tutoring as soon as possible if only for an excuse to be around Merlin.

 

He took out his phone to text the other boy and ask when he wanted to start, only to realize he didn’t have his number. It had only been a few minutes since they had parted, and surely Merlin wasn’t asleep yet. 

 

He got up and crossed the hall, knocking on Merlin’s door without hesitation. 

 

There was a brief pause, a rustle behind the door, before Merlin pulled it open. He was  disheveled, his hair much messier than when Arthur had last seen him, if that was possible, his cheeks a high pink. He was a bit breathless. Arthur noticed a bit of the front of his t-shirt was tucked into his jeans, as though he had had them off and pulled them up a bit too quickly and-  _ oh.  _ Oh, he had interrupted something.

“I-I don’t have your phone number,” he stammered, averting his eyes. He licked his lips nervously and willed himself to look Merlin in the eye. 

Merlin’s eyes were dark, his pupils blown to almost completely hide his irises and Arthur realized he had never known the look in someone’s eyes could be so sexy. Was this how he looked when he- when he did that to himself? 

“Right..” Merlin said hesitantly, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “That couldn’t wait until morning?” 

He bit at his lower lip, knowing yes, yes it could have.

“I guess not,” Arthur replied. 

“I’ll text you,” Merlin said, inching the door closed. 

 

Arthur nodded, turning about face to his bedroom and hurrying back to safety. His heart was pounding, his skin prickled with heat. He wondered what Merlin had been thinking about, how he had gotten into that state so quickly. Something in his mind supplied the tension that hung between them just before their initial parting for the night as a reason, but Arthur was quick to push that away. Merlin wasn’t thinking about  _ him.  _ He wasn’t. 

 

He was pulled out of his musings by his phone vibrating, an unknown number on the screen.

 

m: it’s merlin.

m: what was so urgent that you needed my number this very moment, pendragon?

a: Arthur. 

m: ??

a: I said to call me Arthur.

m: ok why did you need my number this very moment, arthur.

a: I just wanted to ask when we were going to start French tutoring. Non-urgent.

m: urgent enough to need to ask right now, apparently 

m: esp since you don’t want to in the first place

m: anyway, it’s the weekend.

a: We have French homework due Monday.

 

Arthur fell back into bed, watching the bubble indicating that Merlin was typing. He was minutely aware that he sounded a tad too eager. 

 

m: ok, tomorrow then. whenever. i live here, it’s not like we need to make arrangements. 

a: Just because you live here doesn’t mean we’re both always free. I could have plans tomorrow.

m: do you?

a: Well, no. 

m: then whenever works for you. 

a: Yeah.

m: 5 am.

a: No.

m: 6 am.

a: Merlin

m: just get me whenever you’re doing homework

a: Ok

a: Sorry about

a: interrupting you earlier.

m: i’m quite sure i don’t know what you mean, arthur.

 

Arthur swallowed audibly. He shouldn’t have said anything. He didn’t know why he said anything. This was the type of thing that happened between friends and was politely erased from memory as far as mutual acknowledgment went. But something in him wanted Merlin to know he knew what he had been doing. 

 

m: that being said, don’t worry about it. i can hear you worrying from here. 

a: I’m not worried 

 

He wasn’t. He wasn’t sure what he was, but worried wasn’t the right word for sure.

 

m: are you sure? in a house this quiet, i can hear every cog in your brain working. 

a: Not worried. Just thinking.

m: about what? 

 

Arthur wasn’t sure how to respond. He couldn’t say he was as thinking about the other boy, the color in his cheeks, the way his gaze felt tangible when his eyes looked like that, the way his shirt was rucked up, the tightness Arthur felt in his own stomach when he looked at him. He said what felt safe. 

 

a: I don’t know.

m: that just doesn’t sound true.

a: doesn’t it?

m: no. you know what you’re thinking about.

a: Hm. Maybe. But you don’t get to.

m: lame

a: Night, Merlin.

m: lame!! 

 

Arthur set his phone down on the mattress next to him. What did Merlin want him to say? Did Merlin want him to say that he was thinking about him, and wondering what  _ he  _ was thinking about when he was taking care of himself? He couldn’t say that, and even if he could, he wouldn’t. They had only decided to be pleasant to one another hours before. Admitting that he would be rather flattered, pleased even, to know he might be the reason for Merlin’s  _ excitement _ seemed much too forward. And even if he did say that, he was sure it would not be well met. Even his vague acknowledgment of anything having happened was shot down. 

 

And even worse, what if it was well met? What then? 

 

***

 

_ Merlin pushed the hair back from his forehead, smiling down at him.  _

_ “Considering how generally unpleasant you are to be around, you’re exceedingly handsome,” Merlin said, his tone hushed.  He was propped up on a bed, though the room around him was too blurry to make out, apart from there being a great deal of red. Merlin existed in a small cloud of clarity in an otherwise inscrutable space.  _

_ “I feel I should be insulted by that,” Arthur heard his own voice reply, though it was somewhat deeper than he was used to.  _

_ “I said you were handsome!” _

_ “I’d rather be pleasant than handsome,” Arthur replied. _

_ “No, you wouldn’t” Merlin said, running his index finger lazily from Arthur’s forehead to the tip of his nose, tapping it gently. “You’re far too pretty to ever learn how to cope without that advantage.”  _

_ “Pretty?” _

_ “Awfully, terribly so.”  _

_ “Awful, terrible, unpleasant? I’m beginning to wonder why anyone would ever like me.”  _

_ “That’s why no one does. Just me.”  _

_ “Lucky me. Just you happens to be all I need.”  _

_ Merlin laughed and closed the space between them, their lips meeting chastely, before Merlin spoke again, his lips moving against Arthur’s. _

_ “Keep talking like that and you’re bound to get luckier.” _

 

_ ***  _

Arthur awoke, breathing heavily. 

The light outside told him it was early morning. The problem in his pants told him the dream he had been having was a nice one. The hazy memory that clung to his brain told him it was about Merlin, specifically his mouth. Not terribly dirty, just Merlin’s mouth against his own. Everything about the situation told him he was in trouble. 

 

There was no hope of falling back asleep. He knew that. Not with the present tightness in his pajama bottoms. But something about touching himself felt indecent, considering the source. He felt like Merlin would know. He knew, logically, he wouldn’t, because the other boy was asleep in the other room and there was no way for him to find out. But he felt the moment he succumbed to it, it would read in his face. Merlin would only have to look at him a second to know Arthur had gotten off thinking about his stupid mouth.

Cold shower. That was the answer. He got up and made his way to his en suite, turning the shower valve all the way to cold. He hissed as he stepped in, the cold water running down his body. He stood there adjusting to the water temperature and found that it wasn’t helping. If anything, he felt like the cold water was making it worse, making him anticipate touch rather than solving his problem. He tried thinking of anything unsexy, dead puppies, grandmas, the Queen. None of it was working. He tried desperately not to think of Merlin, in the shower, water running down his back. He would not think about Merlin’s shoulder blades. He never even  _ seen  _ Merlin’s shoulder blades, which he supposed was a blessing, but that didn’t stop him from imagining them. 

He shook the thought from his mind and got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He went back into his bedroom and out his phone, searching “cold shower myth?”, thumbing through the results. He groaned at what he saw. Of course it was a old wives tale. Of course it was even suggested as foreplay. 

But he wasn’t going to. He  _ wasn’t.  _

 

He jumped as he heard a noise across the hall. He looked at the clock on his phone. It had only just gone seven in the morning. It seemed terribly early for a Saturday, but then again, he had no idea what Merlin’s rising patterns were. He could be one of those infuriating morning people. Arthur felt like he would be, just to annoy him. 

 

He sighed, feeling the best way to ignore the problem was to leave his room and any space that would be conducive to the privacy required to take care of it. He pulled on boxers and a pair of jeans and left his room, making his way down to the kitchen. He started fixing himself some coffee, realizing he didn’t know if Merlin drank it and if he should make enough for him. 

He shot the other boy a text. 

 

a: Do you want coffee?

m: i wasn’t serious about early morning french tutoring, you can go back to sleep.

a: Not up for that, just couldn’t sleep. Yes or no? 

m: yes

 

Merlin tumbled into the kitchen just as the coffee maker beeped, rumpled in his white t-shirt and pajama bottoms. 

 

“Is it just me or is your hair perpetually wet?” Merlin said in lieu of a greeting, his voice rough with sleep.

“Just got out of the shower,” Arthur said, handing Merlin a mug of black coffee and pushing a carton of creamer and across the breakfast bar.

“Is it just me or are you perpetually showering?” Merlin asked, ignoring the creamer and taking a sip of the coffee. 

“I shower a normal amount,” Arthur replied, sure the purpose of his shower that morning was written across his face. 

“Hm,” Merlin replied, taking a seat across from where Arthur stood. 

Arthur leaned forward, resting his elbows on the counter.  He drank his coffee, fiddling his fingers on the handle of his mug between sips, his eyes fixed on the surface of the bar. 

“Do you always wear that?” Merlin broke the silence.

Arthur looked up and found Merlin’s eyes fixed somewhere around his sternum. He felt incredibly naked all of the sudden. 

“Wear what?” 

“This,” Merlin asked, reaching across the space between them and taking a small disk that hung from a fine chain around Arthur’s neck between his fingers. Arthur had forgotten it was there. 

Merlin held it steady, examining it. It was a small gold circular pendant, two lines dividing it into four quadrants with a small bird in flight fixed at the center. He had worn it for as long as he could remember, though it was hidden under his clothes most of the time. He had started hiding it when his mates had begun teasing him for wearing a “girl necklace” in primary school. 

“It was my mother’s,” Arthur said, quietly, all too aware of how close Merlin’s fingers were to his neck. Merlin seemed to have no regard for personal space, his in particular. 

“Her sigil,” Merlin replied. 

“How did you know?” 

Merlin seemed to start, his eyes darting to Arthur’s before coming to rest again on the pendant.

“Seen something like it before. In a history book. It was much larger, though,” he said quickly. “Your mother, she-?”

“The day I was born. A complication with the cesarean,” Arthur said, hoping to skim over the matter. He didn’t like talking about his mother. He has always blamed himself, and he worried his father’s absence from his life was due to the fact that he did, too. He found it easier not to think about it.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin said, his eyes fixing on the disk between his fingers once more. 

He let it fall gently back to where it hung around Arthur’s neck.  

“My mother and my father both,” Merlin trailed off. “What I mean is I understand.” 

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said, wondering how he hadn’t realized it before. Of course Merlin’s parents were gone, otherwise, he wouldn’t be there.

“It’s alright. It was a long time ago. Time heals all wounds and that kind of thing. Or at least it’s meant to, ” Merlin said, shrugging. 

“Well, you’re young. There is still time to heal,” Arthur tried to sound encouraging.

Merlin’s gaze caught his own, something unidentifiable in his eyes. 

“Right. I guess the big ones take an awfully long time.” 

“You talk like you forget you’re only sixteen.”

Merlin laughed.

“Maybe I have forgotten that,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. 

They shared an amicable silence. Arthur found himself stealing glances at Merlin, who was occupying himself with his phone. He found himself able to get his first good look at Merlin. His ears stuck out in a way he found incredibly endearing. His cheekbones were particularly prominent. In fact, his face was a good fifty percent cheekbone. 

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” Merlin quipped, not looking up from his phone. 

“Who said I want it to?” Arthur retorted, blushing fiercely. 

Merlin hummed in a way Arthur was beginning to find pleasantly infuriating. That hum he so often used as a response simultaneously made Arthur feel as though Merlin somehow knew exactly what he was thinking but was also offering Arthur an opportunity to clarify something he didn’t quite understand. That hum felt incredibly dangerous. 

“Are you always up this early?” Arthur asked, moving to safer territory. 

“Yes. I had a job that required me to get up at an ungodly hour and I never quite broke the habit,” Merlin replied. 

Arthur mimicked Merlin’s signature hum. 

Merlin raised an eyebrow at him in return. 

 

Arthur sighed. He could get used to this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> arthurheart.tumblr.com


	7. Chapter 7

Merlin had wonderful hands. They were lithe, dexterous as he scribbled across the page of notes between them, entirely captivating Arthur’s attention. 

“So then how do we conjugate this?” Merlin said.

“Conjugate what?” Arthur said, lazily, shaking himself back into attention.

“Haven’t you been listening?” Merlin huffed at him. 

 

He hadn’t. How could he, with Merlin being all hands and lips and hair falling in his eyes as he read from the textbook, sitting so close to Arthur that he could feel the heat radiating off his skin. 

“Yes.”

“No,” Merlin said, the word drawn out teasingly. He barely even seemed annoyed with the other boy. “Être. Imparfait. How do you do it? This is first year material, Arthur.”

“Uh,” Arthur stalled. “J’étais.” 

“Ok, that’s one. Now the others.”

“Tu étais. Il était,” he continued. 

“Well, write it and say it so I can tell you’ve got it right.”  Merlin picked up his phone and busied himself with some sort of matching game while Arthur half-heartedly finished the task given to him. 

“Nous étions, vous étiez, ils étaient,” Arthur finished, scrawling it messily across the page. 

“Now, look, you  _ have  _ got a brain under all that hair,” Merlin beamed at him, setting his phone face down on the table. Arthur’s eyes fixed upon it, noticing his business card with his family crest peeking through the black plastic, mostly unnoticeable, but there. It didn’t mean anything, he knew, but he couldn’t help but think about Merlin carrying a little part of him wherever he went, wearing his mark whether he meant to or not. His heart fluttered at the thought. 

“You have a fixation on my hair,” Arthur replied, trying to take his mind of the business card, the way he felt it was a badge that marked Merlin as his. 

Merlin didn’t respond, not even gracing the remark with eye contact. 

“Now, this one is harder because it’s an irregular verb. Imparfait of faire.” 

“Rhymes with hair,” Arthur mumbled.

“Je?” Merlin prompted, ignoring him.

“Fais,” Arthur rolled his eyes. 

“No,” Merlin shook his head. “That’s just normal present tense. Take the nous form and add the imparfait.” 

“Faisais,” Arthur offered after a moment's thought. 

“Bingo. Conjugate the rest,” Merlin said, tapping the notebook. 

“Bossy,” Arthur muttered.

“Are you always this unpleasant to people who are trying to help you?” 

“You could say  _ please,” _ Arthur replied, knowing he was being rather pigheaded about the whole thing, but he found it incredibly hard to focus with Merlin so near and it was making him feel stupid. It wasn’t his fault Merlin was so… surprisingly distracting. 

“ _ Please  _ conjugate the rest. I’m going to get a snack and leave you to finish this on your own. I trust you can manage?” Merlin said, rising from his place.

Arthur nodded, the part of him that didn’t mourn the loss of Merlin’s presence pleased for a break from him. 

Merlin made his way towards the door, pausing to look back just before he left. 

“And Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

“Peut-être que tes cheveux sont une idée fixe de la mienne,” Merlin said, a playful smile on his lips. 

“What does that mean?” Arthur said, furrowing his brow.

“Shame you don’t speak French,” Merlin shrugged, disappearing from the doorway. 

 

Arthur got his phone out hurriedly before he forgot what Merlin had said, opening his translation app. 

He typed in the phrase to the best of his ability and read the translation. 

_ Maybe your hair is a fixed idea of mine. _

That couldn’t be right.

He googled the phrase “idée fixe,” hoping to find more clarity. 

His heart climbed into his throat at the definition.

_ An idea or desire that dominates the mind; an obsession _ .

 

He swallowed. He wasn’t sure that learning French was good for his health. 

 

***

 

Merlin had disappeared into his room for the remainder of the day. Arthur was disappointed, but he couldn’t expect him to hang around him all day. He was surprised he even  _ wished  _ that Merlin would. He had never wanted to be around a person as much as he wanted to be around Merlin. In fact, he spent most of his life avoiding spending a lot of time with anyone in particular. Interaction had always felt like a chore. He had spent his entire life feeling like something was about to happen, something that would make him better understand himself and the place in the world. He shouldn’t attribute Merlin’s sudden appearance in his life with that much importance, he knew. Placing that much weight in one person’s importance wasn’t entirely healthy. But he felt that Merlin held at least one of the answers to the riddle that was his life. Merlin had been one of the pieces that was missing. He was easy to laugh with. Arthur realized in all the short time he had spent with him, he wasn’t worried about saying the wrong thing. He didn’t think he had ever been free of that worry before.

He felt that if he asked Merlin where he had been all this time, all the time he had spent trying to figure out how to be a person, how to be Arthur, Merlin would say “Looking for you.”

Maybe it was self centered of him, but he couldn’t help but think it. 

Had his father taken on any other ward, he was sure they wouldn’t have fit into his life like Merlin did. He wouldn’t want them to. 

It struck him, as he sat in his room, straining his ears for any sound Merlin made just so he could know he was there, that it was incredibly odd that his father had taken on a ward at all. They didn’t often accept outsiders into their lives, let alone their home. He had never heard of Merlin’s uncle, Giaus, before, yet he was a close enough friend for Uther to accept his nephew into their home without question. He hadn’t even mentioned it to Arthur beforehand, not that he sought Arthur’s opinion regularly, but as it affected Arthur more than it did Uther. It wouldn’t have been strange for him to prepare Arthur for the change. But he hadn’t, and Merlin had just appeared. He would have to have a word with his father about it all, just to bring peace to his own mind. 

 

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at his door.

He went to answer it, finding Merlin leaning against his door jamb. His hair was messy, his face tinged with the remnants of sleep. He smiled lazily at Arthur.

 

“Dinner?” he asked. 

“Sure,” Arthur replied. “Order in or go out?”

“Let’s go out,” Merlin decided. “I’ll get dressed.” 

“Where are we going?” 

“You choose. No arguments.”

Arthur groaned.

“I don’t like being in charge,” he complained.

“I don’t believe that at all.”

“I don’t like being in charge of  _ you _ , then,” Arthur called after Merlin as he headed back to his own room. 

“I believe that even less.” 

“I’ve not done anything to support that,” Arthur pouted.

“Not  _ yet _ .” Merlin replied. “You will though.” 

“Will not,” Arthur grumbled. 

“You’re already doing it by  trying to by telling me not to think you do,” Merlin quipped back from his doorway. “Casual dress?” 

“Yeah, of course.”

“Don’t hold it against me that I don’t know what you wealthy folk mean when you say going out.”

 

Arthur rolled his eyes and retreated to dress. He paid special attention to his hair; he couldn’t help it. He ruffled it so it feel into a just messy enough fringe and appraised himself with approval. 

Looking in the mirror, Arthur decided he hated this. He hated feeling, suddenly and for the first time, like he wanted to impress someone. He had never thought about how his hair looked, not outside of wanting to annoy his father for not looking like he should. He had never thought of himself as someone who could invoke anything- especially not something like an idee-fixee- in anyone’s mind. And then there was Merlin. And isn’t that how every thought ended in the past few hours- ‘and then there was Merlin’?

 

They passed dinner quite easily. Arthur took Merlin to an Indian food place he particularly liked, though he hadn’t ordered anything for dine-in in years. It felt nice to have someone to eat with that wasn’t primarily concerned with making sure he ate, like Lana was. It felt odd to have a meal with the other person present having no responsibility for his well being. To eat with someone who was nothing other than a companion was incredibly refreshing. 

 

Arthur learned that Merlin didn’t particularly like talking about himself. He always turned the conversation back to Arthur, a subject Arthur found very dull. 

 

“So, you were a footie star, but you don’t hang out with the team all that often?” Merlin asked after a brief lull between bites of food. 

Arthur shrugged. 

“Why?” 

“Boring,” Arthur replied. 

“Boring?” 

“All they talk about is football. Well, I am sure they talk about other things, but not with me,” Arthur continued. “It’s always about how good I am, what I think the next match will be like. Just… boring stuff. After a while.” 

“Is that why you quit?” 

“Partly.”

“Have you ever considered, Arthur, that they only talk to you about football because it’s the only thing part of your life you let them see?” 

“What else is there to see?” 

“Plenty,” Merlin said, smiling at him. 

“Like what?” 

 

But Arthur couldn’t think of anything about himself that anyone else would find interesting. He liked to watch movies, but that wasn’t interesting. He liked books and video games too, but that wasn’t particularly unique. He supposed he didn’t find himself interesting because he viewed himself as a boy in stasis. He was waiting for something to tell him what his purpose was. Something that told him he was something other than your basic trust fund football star that would get a business degree and take over his father’s position in the world of industry. He was waiting for something, someone,  _ anything _ that told him who he was, what he was waiting for. 

This waiting, it made him feel all too self-important. Everyone was waiting for answers of a similar nature. It was, after all, something of the human condition, wasn’t it? Waiting to be told you’re not just a man, but a man of importance. And most people never got their answer, because it wasn’t the type of thing that just fell into your lap. Most times, you had to go out and  _ make  _ your answer. And that was so much scarier, too scary to be feasible.  So why did he feel his wait would end differently? Why was he so sure what he was waiting for would come? 

 

“You’re clever,” Merlin began.

“Not really.”

“You are, otherwise you wouldn’t be funny.” 

“Well, then, that explains why I’m not.” 

‘You  _ are,  _ Arthur. You just were. You’re witty.” 

“Witty doesn’t equate to interesting,” Arthur rolled his eyes, pushing away his nearly finished plate. 

“It can. It does. With you,” Merlin replied. 

“I don’t know how I have managed to trick you into thinking all these nice things about me without trying, but you really have the wool pulled over your eyes when it comes to all my good qualities, Merlin.” 

Merlin studied him as he chewed his last bite of food. 

“You’re determined to be something,” Merlin answered. “Something more.” 

“That’s not interesting, that’s just… being a person,” Arthur shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to asked Merlin just how transparent he was. Was his face an utterly translucent window into his mind? Merlin made him feel like it was. 

“Yes, but you’re different. You’re going to do something with that determination.” 

“Like what?” 

“I don’t know. Save the world.” 

Arthur laughed. 

“Right,” he said, signalling to their server for the bill. 

 

The server hurried over, two plates placed precariously on her arm and the bill in her free hand. 

“No rush,” she smiled, placing the bill on the edge of the table, turning on her heel quickly to wait on her other table. As she did so, one of the dishes wobbled dangerously, tipping past what should have point of no return over before righting itself, unscathed. 

The server looked at the plate, clearly puzzled, before carrying on. 

 

Arthur turned to Merlin, who was looking towards the entrance of the restaurant, the complete opposite way of the scene he had just witnessed. 

“Did you see that?” Arthur asked, knowing full well he couldn’t have but feeling entirely too confused not to ask. 

“See what?” Merlin asked, a look of strangely exaggerated innocence on his face. The look sat uncomfortably in Arthur’s stomach. 

“The plate the server was carrying- it tipped almost all the way over and then came back up again. Like it was attached to wires or something. Like a parlor trick,” Arthur explained, feeling stupid. 

“Maybe it was,” Merlin shrugged. 

“Of course, because this restaurant has such a magician-y theme,’ Arthur scoffed. “No it was like… I don’t know. Real magic. Like wizard movie magic.” 

“Right. Like that’s even a possibility,” Merlin laughed a little too forcefully. 

 

Arthur shook his head. It was silly. But he had never seen anything like that before, unless he counted the glass in the movie room the other night.

 

Something in his head clicked. He hadn’t seen anything like that until he met Merlin. And Merlin was clearly- pointedly, even- uninterested in acknowledging such occurrences. But that thought process in itself was ridiculous, because it ended in Merlin being responsible for such impossible feats. With Merlin being able to somehow bend physics. That just didn’t happen in real life. People couldn’t do that.  _ Merlin  _ couldn’t do that. 

He paid the bill with that in mind- Merlin couldn’t possibly be responsible for something like that. They were both independent freak incidents that somehow coincided with Merlin’s presence. Anyone else he mentioned them to would most likely be equally as unwilling to bestow them with anymore weight than that- weird instances. 

 

He tested his hunch- hypothesis, suspicion, delusion- on the way back out to the car, fumbling with his keys. He watched, disappointed but not surprised, when they fell to the ground. He looked up at Merlin, who looked back at him with raised eyebrows. 

“What, am I supposed to pick those up for you?” 

“No,” Arthur muttered, feeling stupid. It wasn’t magic, and it wasn’t Merlin. It was just an odd coincidence. Two odd coincidences. 

 

On the drive home, he could feel Merlin studying him intermittently. He glanced at what he could see of the other boy in the rear view mirror a couple times and found that Merlin was squinting at him strangely. Like he was trying to see past something. Like he was trying to see through Arthur’s face and into his head. Like he thought Arthur knew something, something important, maybe something secret, and he wanted to know what. 

 

Arthur didn’t like it. It made him think maybe he was onto something. And he knew it was crazy, but maybe he was. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> arthurheart.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter 8

They fell into a rhythm. It was easy. It was the first time in Arthur’s life when he would rather have someone in the house with him than be alone. But in the past, choices of companions had been slim. He supposed they were still slim, but they were infinitely better. They spent the evenings after school watching movies, moving through Arthur’s collection very quickly. He had never been one to study on his own accord, but he was inspired into frenzies of scholarly activity by the promise of Merlin sitting just a touch closer to him. 

 

He didn’t talk to Merlin at school. Not by choice. He didn’t talk to much of anyone at school. It didn’t cross his mind. He supposed because he spent most of his time at school  _ thinking  _ about Merlin, he didn’t realize he didn’t spend a lot of time interacting with him. That was until weeks into their new living arrangement when Merlin cornered him. 

 

“Are you embarrassed of me, Arthur?” Merlin asked him, out of the blue, as they drove home one Friday afternoon. 

“Of course not,” Athur gasped, taken aback. 

“So there’s another reason why you don’t acknowledge that we know each other in public?” Merlin bit back, looking out the passenger window, his entire body angled away from Arthur. 

Arthur glanced in the passenger side view mirror and noted that Merlin looked rather upset. 

“I just- I’m-” Arthur didn’t properly know how to verbalize what he felt. “I’m scared.”

“What of? That all your wealthy friends will think less of you for associating with your father’s charity case?” 

“What? No!” 

“Then of  _ what _ , Arthur?” 

“They don’t know me, Merlin. I have never once acted myself in front of them. I don’t even know that I knew how to act myself until recently. But around you, I can’t help but be myself,” Arthur explained, wishing this conversation could have occured when he was less occupied, when he could look Merlin in the eye rather than at the road. 

“So you’re embarrassed of who you are around me?” 

“No!  _ Merlin.”  _ he huffed in annoyance at his own lack of eloquence. “If anything, I’m embarrassed of who I am around them. Who I am around you, I- it feels private. It’s wonderful. I feel like Arthur is a real person to actually  _ be  _ when I am around you. I don’t want to share that part of me with people who don’t matter,” he settled. 

“And I matter?” Merlin asked, quietly, shifting  towards Arthur. 

“Matter? You’re my best friend, you idiot,” Arthur said, his words coming out of his mouth before he had really thought them through. 

 

They pulled into their driveway in silence. 

“You’re mine,” Merlin said, his eyes fixed on where his hands lay clasped in his lap. 

“I’m what?” Arthur sputtered. The phrase Merlin had uttered rang through his head, feeling incredibly charged. Of course, anything Merlin wanted of him he could have, but he never quite imagined it happening like this. In the car, during the most genuine argument they had yet to have. It was hardly romantic. He wasn’t sure there had been better, more romantic instances for it to happen, but he also didn’t let himself think that word in reference to Merlin. Now, he couldn’t help it. This was happening, and it was hardly romantic. 

“My best friend, you ass,” Merlin replied, turning to smile at him. 

Arthur let go of the breath he had been holding. Obviously. Obviously that is what he meant, of course he hadn’t meant it in any other capacity, despite the near constant flirting he had endured from Merlin in the past three weeks. But, to be fair, he had never had a best friend. Maybe what he read as flirting was just banter. Maybe that was just how close friends spoke. 

“Well, I am glad the feeling is mutual,” he said, mentally adding “to a degree’ to the end of his statement. “I’m sorry that I’ve done anything to make you think otherwise.”   
“Don’t worry, I just felt it unfair that  _ you  _ should be the one acting ashamed when I clearly have the worse end of the bargain. No one with any sense of dignity would be best friends with  _ you  _ publicly.” 

“Good thing you haven’t any,” Arthur rolled his eyes, throwing the Land Rover in park and getting out. 

“Definitely not,” Merlin said. 

 

They dumped their things in the hallway as they had become accustomed to doing and went into the kitchen for a snack. It was a Friday and they didn’t have any weekend assignments, so they were free to do whatever they wanted. 

“What’s on the docket for tonight?” Arthur asked, watching Merlin spread peanut butter on a graham cracker. The kid was a peanut butter fiend. It made Arthur feel all warm and fuzzy when he thought about it for reasons he couldn’t explain. He liked knowing what Merlin liked. 

Merlin took a bite of the cracker, extending it towards Arthur as he chewed. Arthur didn’t love peanut butter like Merlin, but he took a bite anyway because he liked that Merlin wanted to share something with him.

“Peanut butter crackers,” Merlin answered, chewing as he made another. 

“And after that?” 

“Sit on the couch and do nothing for seven hours because we can,” Merlin replied. 

Arthur hummed in approval. Those were his favorite kinds of nights. They always ended up watching whatever they could find on TV, usually some old game show, and staying up too late until they were punchy, giggling at nothing at all. 

“Is that alright?” Merlin asked, looking at him appraisingly. 

“Anything is alright,” Arthur said, and what he meant was anything was alright as long as it was with Merlin. 

It was like a seal had been broken in the car when he had allowed himself to think the word  _ romantic  _ in the context of Merlin. All of his thoughts, the sappy, sentimental, lovesick ones that he kept at the very back of his mind under a heavy veil of denial had poured out and he couldn’t seem to get them back in the bottle. 

“Is that ‘anything is alright’ the same anything is alright you use when I suggest getting a Chinese and you actually want Italian or is that a real anything is alright?” 

“A real one,” Arthur scowled. Merlin liked to act like he knew whenever Arthur was lying. Arthur had a feeling he did. But this time he was telling the truth. Nothing for seven hours just because they could was exactly what he wanted to do. 

Merlin took another bite out of his second half eaten cracker and handed the rest of it to Arthur, making his way to the movie room. 

 

They settled into the couch and Merlin flipped through the channels on the TV, unable to decide upon something to settle on. Merlin squirmed on the couch until he came to his usual resting place. He had a terrible ( _ wonderful _ ) habit of stretching his legs out over Arthur’s lap while they watched things, and Arthur let him. Of all the things that confused Arthur, this was by far the most confusing. He hadn’t known what to do with his hands. Eventually he settled on resting them somewhere around Merlin’s shins, which seemed the least of all evils. But the seating arrangement did leave him focusing more on the points where Merlin’s body connected with his than anything on the screen in front of him. When he wasn’t thinking about Merlin and touching, he was thinking about how Merlin  _ had _ to know what he was doing. He simply couldn’t be that thoughtless. 

 

But it seemed he was, as he continued to favor casually lounging across Arthur’s legs like it was nothing. Because it was, really. 

 

“You’re quiet,” Merlin said, settling on a cooking show. 

“Am I?” Arthur asked. 

“Yeah,” Merlin answered. “Normally you’d have asked me why six of the shows I flipped past weren’t any good and then act annoyed with whatever I have chosen.” 

“Tired,” Arthur lied. Or maybe he wasn’t lying. He hadn’t been feeling particularly well rested recently, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. He woke up feeling like he had ran for hours in his sleep, but nothing else seemed out of the ordinary. 

“Not been sleeping enough?” Merlin asked. 

“Sleeping plenty,” Arthur said, because he was. It just wasn’t sticking, he supposed. 

Merlin glanced at him with another one of his unreadable, I-know-something-you-don’t-know looks.    
“What?” Arthur asked. 

“Nothing,” Merlin replied, turning back to the TV. 

And that was that. 

*** 

It was a few hours later that they decided to go to bed. This was simultaneously Arthur’s favorite and least favorite part of the day. He liked that they walked to their rooms together, that their waking and sleeping cycles had intertwined and melded like they had, but he hated the moment of separation. He liked being around someone else so constantly. It assured him he was alive, he existed, and someone, namely Merlin, cared about him. 

 

“Oh, I forgot,” Merlin said, bracing his hand against the door frame of his bedroom, turning to look to Arthur. “I’ve got a partners project in Chemistry. She asked if we could do it at ours. Well, mine. I didn’t mention that we, you know, live together. But I figured it was alright? Sorry if I was presumptuous.” 

“Of course, it’s fine, Merlin. This is your home,” Arthur said, though his heart blipped at the mention of a girl. There would be someone else in their tiny space, eventually, he knew, but he had hoped he could have had Merlin all to himself a little longer. And on top of that,  _ he  _ was the one being presumptuous now. Everyone had partner projects and they very, very rarely ended in romance. “When?” 

“Tomorrow,” Merlin said. 

“That’s more than fine,” Arthur said. “I’ll stay out of your hair.” 

“Don’t be silly. You can hang around if you promise not to be disruptive. In fact, I would rather you did. I’ll be less shy if you’re there for moral support.” 

Arthur hummed in lieu of agreement. He would think about it. 

 

***

Emily arrived around noon the next day. 

Arthur had been pretend studying in the library in anticipation of her arrival. 

He knew Emily Rutherford in the way that you know a person you’ve gone to school with for a while and has a last name that landed close to yours in the alphabet, which was to say they were mildly acquainted. 

He heard Merlin greet her at the door faintly, their footsteps becoming louder as they approached the room where he currently sat. 

“Arthur, Emily is here. Go ahead and sit wherever, Emily. I’ll go get water and things,” Merlin said, disappearing as quickly as he had appeared. 

“Arthur?” Emily said. “I didn’t know you knew Merlin.” 

“I do,” Arthur said, sitting up straighter as Emily took the seat diagonally from him at the table at the center of his father’s library-made-study-space. 

“Why are you here? Helping us with the project?” 

“I live here,” he said. 

“What?!” Emily said, her shock apparent. 

“This is my house. And Merlin’s. We live together,” Arthur said slowly, noting her confusion didn’t seem to be diminished. He added, “My father is friends with his family.” 

“Oh. I didn’t know that. So you’re not  _ really  _ friends then, just like out of circumstance, huh? That’s why I’ve never seen you two speak at school,” Emily said, seeming pleased with her deduction. 

“Not at all. He’s my best friend,” Arthur said, rather flatly. He found he rather didn’t like when people tried to pretend they knew what he was thinking when it wasn’t Merlin, but he supposed they usually weren’t right, and Merlin was. 

“Oh,” Emily said, deflating. She paused before she started up again. “Is he dating anyone?” 

Arthur tensed.

“Why?” 

“I don’t know. He’s cute, in a nerdy way,” she shrugged, as if it wasn’t the biggest understatement in the history of the world. “I thought I might ask him to the dance.”

He wanted to shout at her  _ “He is cute in every kind of way and he’s mine, find your own,”  _ but he restrained himself. 

He smiled tightly. 

“He’s not seeing anyone I know of. And I’m not sure he knows  _ how  _ to dance, so I’m not sure he’d be a good date. Unless you like sitting around at dances.” 

“Oh, don’t be mean. He must not be seeing anyone. You live with him, you’d know!” she chirped with satisfaction. 

 

“Let’s get started,” Merlin said from the door, making them both jump. 

 

It was some sort of presentation about elements. Each group had been assigned three elements and they were to describe their properties and uses. It was all quite dull to listen to, but Arthur was happy to stay there and listen if it meant not leaving Merlin alone with Emily. He knew it was rather selfish, but if Merlin was planning on making a move, he wouldn’t have asked Arthur to stay the night before. Unless he wanted a wingman. But Arthur wasn’t getting that vibe. 

He was trying not to glare. He really was. He was fairly certain he was failing. Emily kept touching Merlin. His arm, his wrist, his hand. Merlin would smile at her, but he wasn’t touching back. Arthur didn’t know what that meant, but he felt it was good. It felt as good as Merlin choosing to sit next to him instead of Emily, although that could have been because it’s easier to talk to someone across a table than it is to talk to someone next to you. And with Merlin taking so much care not to return Emily’s touches, it felt wonderful when Merlin’s knee would bump against his under the table, touching him for minutes at a time before pulling away. Although that could just be because the table was small and they were both on the tall side. Whatever any of it meant, Arthur was relieved when Emily finally left. 

“That was fun, Merlin. We should hang out again!” 

Merlin laughed pleasantly, but didn’t agree. 

“See you at school, Em,” he replied, ushering her towards the foyer. 

“It was nice to see you, Arthur,” she called over her shoulder. 

 

Merlin sighed when he re-entered the room, slumping into the chair next to Arthur. 

“She likes you,” Arthur blurted, feeling about to burst with nervous energy. 

“Trust me, I know,” Merlin groaned, draping an arm across his face.

“You don’t like her?” 

“ _ No _ .” Merlin answered forcefully. 

“She’s nice,” Arthur said, suddenly feeling badly that he had said anything at all. 

“I know she is but she’s just not…” Merlin trailed off. 

“She’s not what?” 

“I don’t know exactly what she’s not, but she’s not it,” Merlin said. “Anyway, it wouldn’t do me any good to like her with you glaring at her all fire and brimstone like that all the time. I thought you were going to light her on fire. What  _ was _ that about?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” 

“You looked like you were trying to dissolve her with your eyes,” Merlin prodded. 

“I was not.” 

“You looked-” 

“You’re seeing things, Emrys.” 

“Ooooh, surnames, I’m really in trouble now,” Merlin joked, poking at Arthur’s ribs. “What’s the problem, Arthur? Do  _ you  _ like her?” 

“No! There’s no problem! Oh, and fair warning, she’s going to ask you to the dance.” 

“And you don’t want me to go with her? Planning on asking me yourself,  _ Pendragon?” _

“NO! Just fair warning.”

_ Just don’t go with her. _

Merlin squinted at him, that fucking infuriating squint that made him feel as though all his thoughts were somehow broadcast across his forehead like the ticker tape at the bottom of the evening news. 

“Hmm.” Merlin said finally. “Maybe you just don’t like sharing me. That’s fine, though.” 

Merlin stood up, flicking Arthur’s ear as he passed him to leave. “I don’t like being shared.” 

 

Arthur forgot how to breathe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> arthurheart.tumblr.com
> 
> Also sorry the final chapter number keeps changing, I numbered them wrong at some point during the writing process and Now??? I can't count but I think 12 is right. Forgive me, but turns out I'm lost the knack for COUNTING while working on my English degree. Which is not Cute.


	9. Chapter 9

The rest of the weekend passed without a hitch. Arthur and Merlin existed in the small (in terms of the world, large in terms of real estate) space they had come to call their own. Arthur didn’t even think about Emily, a point he had feared his mind would fixate on. But that is not to say he didn’t spend the entirety of that Sunday, and many of the days following, fixated on a singular, far more devastating moment.  _ I don’t like being shared.  _

When it came to combining words into the most disarming statement possible, Merlin was masterful, and those five words were his magnum opus. He thought about them when he woke up in the morning to find Merlin already in the kitchen, a cup of coffee poured into Arthur’s favorite mug at the ready on the breakfast bar, a sleepy smile on the other boy’s face.

He was thinking about them when he sat in the kitchen, watching Lana expertly prepare dinner. 

“You boys seem to be getting along swimmingly,” Lana said, laying out pork chops on a tray. 

“We do alright,” Arthur said, pulling himself from his thoughts.

“I always thought having someone your own age around would do you well, Arthur,” Lana continued. “You seem different. Happy. You have a glow.” 

“A glow?”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you look like you’re in love,” she said, lowering her voice as she placed a bread basket on the breakfast bar. She had a conspiratory glint in her eye.

Arthur studied her, feeling his eyes squint in that Merlin-esque way, another trait he had accidentally hijacked in their time together, before saying, “I’d prefer you didn’t  know better.”

“Oh, then I haven’t the slightest. I had forgotten, Pendragons have no weaknesses. They are impervious to intelligent, quiet boys who show up at just the right time,” she said, winking at him.

“Like a fortress,” Arthur replied, taking a piece of bread from the basket, Lana slapping at his hand half heartedly. 

“You’ll ruin your dinner.”

“Oh, come off it, I’m a growing boy.”

“At six foot, I sure hope not, or we’ll have to put you up in one of those Ripley’s museums,” Lana laughed. 

Arthur scowled and bit into his roll to keep a smile from spreading across his face

 

He thought about those words again, in the evening, when Merlin settled onto the couch with a book while he played Mario Kart, his legs inevitably finding their way into Arthur’s lap, as they always did. 

 

“You’re not very good at this,” Merlin said, giving the screen a sideways glance after Arthur had put in about thirty minutes of playing.

“Like you’re any better, pork breath,” Arthur huffed, knocking at Merlin’s knee with the controller. 

“I’m definitely not, and I don’t intend to try and prove that, but that doesn’t make up for your lack of skill,” Merlin said, turning the page of his book. 

Arthur scowled at the screen in front of him. 

“I don’t know why you have to be mean about it,” he mumbled, using a bit too much force to move the joystick around with his thumb, and, in turn, doing worse. 

“Because you’re funny when you pout,” Merlin replied. 

“Funny?” Arthur asked, his scowl deepening. 

“Yeah. Funny. Cute,” Merlin added, intentionally bumping the control with his knee to throw Arthur off. 

Not that he had needed to do anything more than utter the word ‘cute’ to throw Arthur off, but the jostling didn’t help. Arthur quit the race, crossing his arms over his chest, fighting against the smile that threatened to break across his face. 

“Well, now you’re just trying too hard,” Merlin said, closing the book, using his thumb to keep his  place. 

“I’m not  _ trying  _ to do anything,” Arthur said, although he couldn’t say he hadn’t hoped he would be able to pull another ‘cute’ out of Merlin. He supposed he would have to live off the high of just the one, which was surely enough to keep his mind going in circles for several days. 

“Sure you aren’t,” Merlin said, raising his eyebrows and turning his attention back to his book. 

Arthur sighed and leaned back into the couch, any hope of concentration shot. He spaced out for a moment, watching Merlin read. He was a fidgety reader, plucking at the corners of the page as he read it, anticipating a page turn far before it came. As a result there was a constant rustle of paper that Arthur would have found annoying, if it wasn’t Merlin. But it was Merlin, so he found it endearing. 

Merlin sensed the other boy’s eyes on him, looking up briefly to meet Arthur’s gaze. Arthur expected a quippy comment that would make him feel caught and his cheeks go all pink, but instead he was met with a little smile before Merlin returned to the page in front of him. Nothing about a picture lasting longer. No question about whether or not there was something on his face. Just noticing Arthur was looking and letting him carry on doing so. Like it wasn’t weird. Like it was allowed. Like it was maybe even encouraged. 

 

Merlin broke into Arthur’s thoughts, how many minutes later, he wasn’t sure. 

“Your father will be wanting to know how the tutoring is going soon,” he said, dog earring his page and closing the book. He placed it on arm of the sofa he was leaning against, turning to sit upright as he did so. Arthur wished he could tell Merlin to stay as he was, with his legs draped over him, but he didn’t want to call attention to the fact that they always sat tangled up in such a way, afraid that once addressed, it would stop all together. 

“I’m sure he’s already forgotten about that. He may have even forgotten about you,” Arthur said, feeling rather glum at the mention of his dad. He then realized what he said may have been a bit meaner to Merlin than it was his father and added, “Not that you warrant forgetting. He’s just….” 

“Uther?” Merlin supplied. 

“Yeah. He’s just Uther. Half the time I think he’s even forgotten about me. Or at least, he would like to,” Arthur said, his chest feeling heavy. He didn’t want to talk about his father. 

“Well, that’s his loss,” Merlin said, resting his hand on Arthur’s shoulder.

“Yeah?” Arthur asked. “I’m not sure he’d see it that way. I’m a waste of time. And, you know, time is money, or whatever.” 

“You’re worth every second of his time, Arthur, he’s just too wrapped up in himself to see it,” Merlin replied. 

“That’s easy for you to say. You’ve only known me for a few weeks. You haven’t had time to get tired of me yet,” Arthur said, looking away from Merlin. 

“I’ve known you long enough to know you aren’t a waste of time, Arthur. People wait _ lifetimes _ to find someone like you.” 

“And what’s that? Someone like me?” 

“An honest person. A person who doesn’t change to please others, even when it makes life hard. Even when it makes life lonely. Sure, you’re young, so you haven’t had to face anything particularly harrowing, but when the time comes, I know you’re the type of person to stick to your guns. And you care. You care deeply about people. Even people you think don’t care back. Like your father.” 

“Merlin, I think you’re just easily impressed. Everything you said, everything you  _ have  _ said about me since we met are just things that people do. It’s what makes a decent human being. I’m not special for feeling or acting the way I do.” 

“But you are special, because you think that. So many people realize that these are things that people should feel and do, but don’t. Not to mention the people who don’t even begin to think about what makes a decent person, and therefore never become one. But you’re better than a decent person, because you realize what it takes to be decent, but they’re such inherent parts of your character that you can’t imagine being anything else. You couldn’t be a bad person if you tried. You can be a royal dick every once in a while, but you could never be a bad person,” Merlin said. He almost sounded angry, his voice getting louder as he spoke. 

Arthur winced, feeling rather chastised. 

“Sorry,” he murmured. 

“Don’t be  _ sorry,  _ Arthur,” Merlin said, his voice softening. “ Just realize that just because you’re dad doesn’t seem to realize that he has an incredible son doesn’t mean you aren’t just that. And on top of that, I’m the smartest person you know, and I think so, so it must be true” Merlin added, ruffling Arthur’s hair. 

Arthur swatted his hand away. 

“Whatever,” he said, glancing up at Merlin before fixing his gaze on the ground. He knew he was redder than a tomato, and looking at Merlin wouldn’t help. It wasn’t often that people told him so forthright what was good about him. Not what made him a good student or a good football player, but what made him  _ good.  _ Just good, plain and simple.    
“Listen, Arthur, if you really think he won’t care, we can stop with the French tutoring-” 

“That’s not what I meant. I just meant… we don’t have to report to him until he asks. I appreciate your help, trust me, but I don’t think my father would even look at anything when sent him. We could send him a letter telling him to fuck off in French and he would be none of the wiser,” Arthur said, pushing his hair back from his forehead and sighing. 

“Well, I think he would be more likely to look up what it meant if it was just two words, so I’m going to veto that idea,” Merlin laughed. 

“I know it’s a bad idea. Sorry. I’m just grumpy.” 

“Are you sure you’re sleeping enough? You seem tired,” Merlin asked. 

“I’m sleeping just as much as I ever have. Maybe I’m not reaching- what is it called?- REM?” Arthur asked, rubbing his eyes. 

“Yeah, maybe not,” Merlin replied, but his voice sounded far away. 

Arthur shot him a puzzled look. Merlin seemed to shake himself from his thoughts and smiled at Arthur. 

“Looks like I’m tired, too. I think I’m off to bed. You should be, too.” 

“Yeah,” Arthur agreed, although he felt he wouldn’t be able to sleep anytime soon. He stood up, letting his controller fall into a sofa crease, stretching his arms up into the air and groaning. “Maybe if I’m still tired tomorrow, I should just skip class,” he suggested, pausing at the door on his way to his bedroom. 

“Yeah, and where does that leave me?” Merlin asked, lolling back onto the couch, seeming to make no moves towards bed. 

“... Skipping class, too,” Arthur realized.

“You forget I can’t get away with everything you can.” 

“Yes, you can, you’re practically a Pendragon.” 

“Not really. I just live with one,” Merlin replied. “No skipping. Just sleep well. Sweet dreams.” 

Arthur pushed away the last dream he remembered, the one about Merlin and his mouth, before mumbling “I never dream.”    
“Everybody dreams, Arthur.” 

 

But Arthur hadn’t. He realized then he hadn’t in weeks.


	10. Chapter 10

_ He was in the forest somewhere and Merlin was missing. Merlin was maimed or mortally wounded or dead and he could not find him. Merlin was gone and they had already tried to replace him but they couldn’t replace him because he wasn’t just his- his- the word escaped him, but he wasn’t whatever they thought he was to him because he was  _ **_Merlin._ **

_ But then Merlin was there and he was filthy, and he was much older than he should have been, in his early twenties at least, but he was alive, and wasn’t that wonderful? Wasn’t that the only thing in the world that Arthur was sure he cared about? He pulled Merlin into a hug, the relief at feeling him there, in his arms, overwhelming him, but he blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, he was the one who was maimed, or mortally wounded, or dead?-  no, dying, he was most surely dying.  _

_ Merlin was trying to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and Arthur knew that he couldn’t save him this time. He knew, somehow, that Merlin has saved him before. A glove clad hand- his, it was his hand- reached up to hold Merlin’s face.  _

_ “Arthur,” Merlin said, his voice echoing.  _

 

“Arthur.” 

 

Arthur gasped, disoriented. He was in his own bed, Merlin leaning over him, hand on his shoulder. 

“You’re having a nightmare,” Merlin said. 

“How did you know?” Arthur asked groggily. 

“You yelled for me,” Merlin said, moving away from Arthur. “You’ve been having a lot of nightmares.” 

“I haven’t been dreaming.” 

“You just don’t remember.” 

And now, as he lay there, heart beating out of his chest, he was sure that this fear wasn’t new. It was painful, paralyzing even, but it was as integral a part of him as-

“Merlin,” Arthur rasped, sitting up as he noticed Merlin was moving out of the room. 

“Yes, S-” Merlin caught himself midword, looking somewhat guilty, but Arthur was too shaken to bother asking what he had meant to say. 

“Don’t go,” Arthur said, heat rising to his cheeks. Ever since he was a child, he had been perfectly self sufficient, perfectly capable of coddling himself through night terrors. Now he was nearly a man, and the idea of Merlin leaving the room petrified him. 

“What would you like me to do, Arthur?” Merlin asked, clearly uncomfortable. Yet, he didn’t seem to be inching towards the door, as Arthur would have expected. It felt as though Merlin was doing everything in his power to keep himself from moving towards him.

“I don’t know,” Arthur admitted, but he knew that Merlin couldn’t leave. “Just stay.”

Merlin hesitated. 

“Sit. Or don’t. Whatever you want. Just don’t go,” Arthur told him, closing his eyes again. He felt Merlin’s weight dip the bed next to him and he felt like he could breathe again. 

“What was the dream?” Merlin’s voice came softly from his side. 

“It was- I was in a forest and I thought you were dead and then you weren’t dead, and I was wearing armor and you were older and dressed strangely,” Arthur rambled. “And then I was dying and you-” Arthur lifted his hand, again, the scene playing over in his head- his hand, Merlin’s face, and then nothing. 

“And I?” Merlin prompted. 

Arthur opened his eyes and looked at Merlin. 

“You couldn’t save me. You wanted to save me and you couldn’t,” Arthur finished, his voice breaking. 

“Me? Wanting to save you? Why would I ever do that?” Merlin joked, pulling his knees up to his chest. He rest his chin on his knee and and smiled softly. There was a sadness in his eyes that tore at Arthur. 

 

He closed his eyes once more, lying back down on his pillow. And again, he was overwhelmed with how familiar this all felt. It nearly made him sick. Merlin sitting up with him in his room, watching him, ready to help him in any way he could. Images flashed through his head. A room with high ceilings.. A bed with red curtains, Merlin sitting on the edge with morning light filtering through the window behind him. Merlin standing at the bedside, the gray light of dawn discoloring his face. Merlin sleeping, half of his face pressed into the pillow as candlelight played against his features. Arthur had the feeling that he was lying beside Merlin, watching him sleep. It struck him that he missed this, which was impossible, because it had never happened. His head ached as the images flashed dizzyingly in front of him. He pressed his hands to his temples in hopes of steadying himself, but to no avail. 

 

“Merlin,” he gasped. 

He felt the bed shift under him, his body feeling a million miles away from his mind. 

“What is it?” 

The images stopped. Arthur opening his eyes, finding Merlin had moved closer to him, though there was still a careful space between him. A crease had worried its way between his eyebrows as he gazed at Arthur, concerned. 

“I know you,” Arthur said, with utter conviction that he could not himself understand. 

“I should hope. I have lived here for nearly a month,” Merlin laughed tightly.

“No, Merlin, I  _ know  _ you, but…” Arthur trailed off. “It is almost like it happened a long time ago. Or maybe in the future, because you’re older. But not, because of how we dressed.”

“Arthur, it’s just a dream,” Merlin said, his voice measured. 

“It  _ wasn’t,”  _ Arthur nearly yelled. “If it was a dream, it would have ended when I woke up!”

“Just now, you saw more?” Merlin asked, suddenly concerned. 

“A bedroom. Very old fashioned. Stone walls. Red. The decorations were all red. A massive wooden bed. You,” Arthur said the last word quietly. 

“Me?” 

“You’re always there, aren’t you?” 

“What was I doing?” 

“Waking me up. Sitting with me, like you are now. Sleeping,” Arthur explained. 

“In your bed?” Merlin asked. 

“I don’t know that it’s my bed. It could be yours.” 

“Right,” Merlin said slowly. 

 

Arthur looked at him. Merlin knew something. He knew more than he was letting on. He  _ always  _ knew more than he was letting on. Arthur was tired of it. 

“Tell me,” he blurted. 

“I don’t know what-” 

“ _ Mer _ lin. Please. Ever since you’ve shown up, everything has been strange. I know you, but I don’t know you. I remember you, but I can’t remember you because we’ve never met. You know I’ve been having nightmares recently, and somehow, I don’t. And you know why,” Arthur said, sitting up on his knees and facing Merlin. “Please. Merlin. What am I missing here?” 

 

Merlin made to stand up. 

‘Merlin,” Arthur pleaded, grabbing his hand. 

“I’m just going to get something. It might help you. With what’s missing.” 

 

Arthur let his hand fall and watched him exit his bedroom. Merlin reappeared a moment later with a large bundle of red cloth that looked worse for wear. He hit the lightswitch next to the door on his way back to Arthur’s bed. 

 

He sat at the foot of the bed, unwrapping it carefully, maneuvering so Arthur couldn’t see it’s contents. 

He picked something up and held it out to Arthur. 

“This might help you remember. Hold out your hand,” he said, solemnly. 

Arthur did. 

A gold ring landed in his palm. 

“What is this?” he asked, holding it up closer to his face. 

“A ring.” 

“I can see that,” Arthur scowled at him. “I mean what does it have to do with me?” 

“Put it on,” Merlin replied, watching him carefully. 

Arthur examined it a moment longer and then slipped it on the forefinger on his left hand. 

He looked up to see Merlin smiling. 

“What?” 

“It’s just… the last person who wore that wore it there, too,” Merlin answered, rummaging back through the contents of his parcel. 

He brought out a leather-lined doublet, which looked impossibly old fashioned to be in such great condition. It had gold studs across the shoulders and was a shade of crimson that Arthur was particularly fond of. 

Merlin laid it out on the bed spread, picking a few stray bits of lint off of it. 

“You’re not going to make me put that on, too, are you?” Arthur said, feigning unwillingness, but really, he quite liked the way it looked. He thought he would have liked to wear it.

“No,” Merlin said adamantly. 

Merlin was quiet again. 

_ What has this got to do with anything at all, Merlin?  _ Arthur wondered as he reached out to pick up the garment. 

Merlin looked inclined to stop him, but thought better of it. 

He brought the doublet closer to him, examining the stitching. It looked familiar, but he supposed he had seen something like it in movies before, or at a museum. That didn’t explain why it smelled familiar. It smelled like his bedsheets a week into being slept on. It smelled like his shirt after a day’s wear. It smelled like  _ him.  _

His stomach lurched, the feeling of a memory just out of reach settling over him uncomfortably. Images began to flash through his mind again. He closed his eye against the doubleness of his vision and leant into the visions- memories?- as they flashed by. 

_ Merlin, standing across the room from him, a banquet hall, wearing the most ridiculous hat he had ever seen, feathers sticking out in a way that seemed to make his already large ears particularly prominent. He could feel himself laughing as Merlin looked back, resigned to being the brunt of some private joke that no one else in the room seemed to be privy to. No one else in the room seemed to even notice Merlin, but in this recollection, vision, whatever it was, Arthur found himself looking at Merlin near constantly. Merlin was always looking back.  _

_ The room changed to the first room he had seen, the bedroom, and Merlin was there, sans hat, unbuttoning the doublet- his doublet- and blathering away. Arthur either couldn’t hear him, or he wasn’t listening when or if this had really happened to him. Yes, he wasn’t listening. Instead, he was watching Merlin’s lips form words, maddening in their fullness. He was overcome with Merlin’s closeness, the way Merlin focused just on the clothing he was dealing with and quite deliberately kept his eyes from meeting Arthur’s. He was reminded of the day Merlin had helped with his tie at school, and his stomach flipped. He felt Merlin’s fingers accidentally graze at the skin just below the column of his throat, watched as the slightest tinge of pink travelled across his cheekbones. Merlin looked older, but he felt younger, shyer somehow, more unsure of himself. Arthur wanted nothing more then to reach out and touch him. On cue, he saw himself raise his hand, and noted the ring Merlin had just presented him with on his forefinger as he skimmed his hand over Merlin’s cheek. Merlin seemed startled, his eyes meeting Arthur’s with a look he had seen before but had never been able to place until now. Wanting.  _

_ He saw, or rather felt himself leaning forward, the space between Merlin and himself growing smaller until- _

 

Arthur gasps, startling himself back into reality, or rather, the current reality. 

“This is mine,” Arthur said, breathless. 

“Yes,” Merlin said quietly. 

“Merlin, who was I?” 

“I don’t know that you’ll believe me, it’s.. It’s far-fetched,” Merlin began, eyeing Arthur hesitantly. 

“Merlin, I’ve seen it.  I know I was someone else, I believe that, I just need to know who,” Arthur pleaded, his fingers digging into the doublet he still held. 

“You weren’t someone else, Arthur. You were you. You were Arthur Pendragon then, just as you are now,” Merlin said quietly. 

“But how? How was I then, but also now? And you? How are you here?” 

“His name was Merlin.” 

“What?” 

“Arthur’s sorcerer. His name was Merlin,” Merlin clarified. 

Arthur looked at him just in time to see a gold flash in his eyes, and then was met with the sensation that something was falling away. Something that had been put into place that first night they had spent watching movies together. His mind felt less fuzzy.

“King Arthur? And what, you’re him?” Arthur asked, wanting to be completely unconvinced, but unable to bring himself to be. 

“Yes. And  _ you’re _ him,” Merlin said. 

“I’m who? King Arthur? I’m  _ King Arthur _ ?” 

The moment he heard the words in his own voice, he knew it was true. He wasn’t sure how it could be true, but he knew it was. 

“I’m King Arthur,” he whispered. “You’re my?” 

“Warlock. Not in an official sense. Your father wasn’t a fan of magic.” 

The glass, the first night, righting itself mysteriously and the plate in the Indian restaurant immediately popped back into his mind. 

“I was right. The plate was you.” 

“You’re more observant now than you were then,” Merlin smiled sheepishly. 

“I doubt it.”

Merlin’s smile tightened uncomfortably.

Arthur changed the subject. 

 

“What were you officially?” 

“Your manservant,” Merlin said. “Your best friend.” 

“You? A servant?” 

“I wasn’t very good,” Merlin laughed. 

Merlin pulled out another thing from his bundle. It was a gold coronet, very simple in it’s ornamentation. 

“Is that?” Arthur trailed off. 

“Yours,” Merlin confirmed.  “From when you were a Prince. I always thought it suited you better. Not that you weren’t a great king, you were- the greatest king the world has ever seen. But I always liked this one best.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“It’s the first one I ever saw you wear,” Merlin said. 

Arthur didn’t reach for it and Merlin didn’t offer. 

“And this, why’d you save this?” he gestured to the doublet. 

“It was my favorite one of yours,” Merlin admitted quietly. 

“Merlin, you and I,” Arthur began, but the image of his hand grazing Merlin’s cheek, the tightness in his chest that he had felt since the first time he saw Merlin (well, he guessed the second first time he saw Merlin) threw everything Merlin said into confusion. He didn’t know how to finish his sentence. “Were we very close?” he decided upon, hoping perhaps Merlin would say something that would make any of those feelings make sense. 

“Quite,” Merlin nodded. “Inseparable, really. I can count the number of day we spent apart from each other on my hands.” 

Arthur got up from the bed and walked across the room, stopping at his dresser. He felt shaky. He braced himself against the piece of furniture, grasping it with both hands, the wood creaking under the pressure. He looked in the mirror hung above it, and was struck with another question. 

“When I see you, back then, the visions or the memories, whatever you want to call them, you look just the same. Well, older, but still you,” he said, glancing at Merlin behind him. “Do I? Is this how I looked?” 

“Identical,” Merlin assured him, and Arthur noted the way Merlin’s eyes skimmed down his body as he spoke. “Though back then, you wouldn’t have gone out with a button out of place, and if people wore ties, you wouldn’t have been caught dead with a crooked one.” 

“I’m sure I had other ways to rebel,” Arthur replied, smiling at Merlin’s reflection. 

A shy smile played at Merlin’s lips.

“You did.” 

“Why do I get the feeling you helped?” Arthur asked.

Merlin shrugged, breaking eye contact. 

 

After a moment of silence, Merlin stood up and approached the other boy, coronet still in hand. 

He stopped short behind Arthur. 

“May I?” Merlin asked, holding up the headpiece. He found Arthur’s gaze in the mirror. 

“Yes,” Arthur breathed. 

Merlin used both hands to lift the coronet just above Arthur’s head, slowly lowering it until it rested at his temples. 

Arthur’s eyes were glued to Merlin as he brushed a few stray strands of his hair into place.

“Look,” Merlin said quietly, nodding towards the mirror as his hand trailed from Arthur’s hair down to the small of his back. Arthur’s skin broke out in goosebumps as Merlin’s hand found a place to rest there.

 

He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked rather silly, in just his pajama pants and a crown, but it also looked right. He never thought he could look regal so naturally, but he looked born to wear that coronet. He supposed he was. 

 

The image of himself in the mirror wearing the crown brought another memory rushing back to him. 

  
  


“ _ Arthur,” past Merlin’s voice rang through his mind, particularly breathy. “Arthur, I shouldn’t.”  _

_ They were in the bedroom again, though that hardly seemed to matter. Arthur was looking at himself in the mirror, but more important his own reflection was the reflection of Merlin in his arms, his head lolled to the side as Arthur worked his mouth up Merlin’s neck, his hand buried in Arthur’s hair. Most important of all was that the coronet was perched on Merlin’s head rather than his own.  _

_ He watched himself kiss his way up to Merlin’s ear, catching the lobe between his teeth, smiling at the hiss it earned him. He had never seen himself like that.  _

_ “You should,” Arthur whispered against the other man’s ear. “You’re the person in this kingdom I wish to share the crown with. Besides,” Arthur said, sitting back and pulling his gaze from the mirror to Merlin’s face. “You look beautiful. You’re the most beautiful thing in the world, and I’m not one to deprive myself of beautiful things.”  _

_ Merlin laughed at him, leaning forward to catch Arthur’s lips with his own. _

_ “What are you laughing at?” Arthur asked in between kisses. _

_ “You,” Merlin replied. _

_ “Why?” _

_ “Just think it’s silly that you’ll say I’m the most beautiful thing in the world when you exist,” Merlin murmured. _

_ “Hm,” Arthur hummed thoughtfully, his eyes travelling back to the mirror. “Maybe together, we’re the most beautiful thing in the world. You and me like this.”  _

_ “Maybe you’re right.” _

_ “But I still think it’s you.”  _

_ Merlin laughed again.  _

  
  


“What are you seeing?” Merlin asked, startling him into this reality.

“You’re definition of best friends is very liberal,” Arthur replied, coming to his senses, seeing his present, younger self in the mirror in front of him, feeling Merlin’s hand still resting at his back.

“Oh,” Merlin said quietly. “I wasn’t sure if you were ready to know. I didn’t want you to think I had any expectations of you. Of us.” 

His hand fell. 

“What did you see, exactly?” 

“Me telling you you were the most beautiful thing in the world,” Arthur admitted. He felt like he could feel his heartbeat in each individual blood vessel as he said the words out loud. 

“Oh. I was wearing that, then.” Merlin said, his eyes resting on Arthur’s coronet.

Arthur turned to face Merlin.

“You remember?”

“It’s not something one easily forgets,” Merlin said, avoiding Arthur’s gaze. 

Arthur hoped Merlin was telling him that _ he _ wasn’t something that was easily forgotten. 

 

“When you say there’s no expectation does that mean you-“ Arthur paused, looking for the words and the courage to finish his thought. “Does that mean that you don’t want us to be that way anymore?” 

Merlin looked shocked, physically starting with surprise at his words.

“No,” he said quietly.

“No, you don’t?”

“No, it doesn’t mean that,” Merlin clarified.

“Oh,” Arthur said. 

 

Merlin turned away from Arthur, heading back over to his bundle. The last thing he took out was a large flat disc. He turned it over in his hands before presenting it to Arthur. It was the same as the much smaller disc he wore on the chain around his neck. His mother’s sigil. 

 

“This- This was my mother’s” Arthur said dumbly. 

“Yes,” Merlin replied. “I found about about your father coming back first. He’s nearly as he was the first time around, but he’s much nicer. His worst days now are comparable to some of his best days before.” 

“What do you mean the first time around?”

“Well, he came back, didn’t he? Like you. That’s how I knew you were coming. Uther Pendragon came up in the business world and the moment I heard the name, I knew. Igraine came back, too. I never knew her the first time, but from how I heard her described, she was just the same. I half expected the rest of them to come back with you, if your parents did,” Merlin answered, watching Arthur’s hands as he held the sigil. 

“The rest of them?” Arthur asked, feeling incredibly stupid and somewhat like he was dreaming. The weight of the coronet on his temples and the sigil in his hand confirmed, however, that this was real. 

“Your knights. Our friends. Giaus, my uncle,” Merlin replied. 

“Giaus. My father said that he was the one who took care of you before you came here,” Arthur said, his head hurting. 

“He was. But that was a long time ago. I just tweaked your father’s memory to make it seem like those memories were from this lifetime. Sorry,” Merlin said, looking guilty. 

“Wait, what about you? Where were you this whole time?” Arthur asked. He could hardly care what Merlin had done to his father’s memory if it ended with his knowing Merlin. 

“Everywhere,” Merlin replied. “It’s hard to stay in one place for a long time when you don’t die.” 

“You don’t-” 

“No. I don’t. Well, maybe now I do. But not until you came back and I made sure you fulfilled.. Whatever it is you’re here to do. I don’t know what it is that you’re here for now, and since I don’t have a death wish, I am not about to go looking for the cause. But I-” Merlin’s voice broke slightly, and he composed himself. He was tense, in a way that made Arthur’s chest ache. This was his fault. “I’m really glad you’re here, Arthur.” 

 

Arthur swallowed around the lump in his throat and handed the sigil back to Merlin. 

“It’s yours,” Merlin said. 

“Keep it for me a little longer, then,” Arthur replied. 

“I don’t want to. I’ve waited so long to give it back,” Merlin said, his voice regaining its strength. “If I don’t have it, I know it’s because you do, and that means you’re back.” 

Arthur set the sigil gingerly on the bed, careful that it was far from the edge. 

“I want to thank you somehow,” Arthur said, quietly. He took off the coronet and set it back in the collection of Merlin’s -no, his own, no, their?- things. “You didn’t have to keep all this. It must have gotten annoying to carry around all these years.” 

“You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to. I was meant to.”

Arthur sat on the ground at the foot of the bed, turning his attention to Merlin’s bundle. The only thing left in it was a bundle of impossibly old- he supposed magically preserved- parchments with sketches on them. He recognized the figure and the face sketched repeatedly over and over across one page as his own. 

“I was worried I would forget what you looked like,” Merlin explained before Arthur could ask. 

“Did you?” 

“Never for a second. Sometimes you got fuzzy, but those would always pull you back into focus,” Merlin replied. “But I worried I wouldn’t be able to bring you all the way back in my mind, one day. I didn’t know how long it would be.” 

 

Arthur felt that tug at his chest again, the one that he was beginning to understand. He carefully replaced the drawings to their spot in the bundle and turned back to Merlin. 

He had thought for a moment that maybe whatever he and Merlin had been had been something casual, something easy and convenient to fall into. Merlin was his servant, the only person who could come to his rooms at all hours without raising suspicion. But he knew that if he felt this strongly towards Merlin now, he must have then. 

“Merlin, were we-” he trailed off. 

“What?” 

He was going to ask if they were in love. But he didn’t have to. He knew it was true.

But this was a lot to process. You don’t find out you’re the long dead saviour of England and your best friend is an immortal wizard everyday. Maybe he should leave love until tomorrow. 

“Nothing,” Arthur said, then changed his mind. “No, not nothing. I’m tired. I want to go back to bed.” 

“I’ll go back to my room,” Merlin said, rather hurriedly, seemingly ready to abandon his bundle at the end of Arthur’s bed. 

“Would you stay if I wanted you to?” 

“Do you want me to?” 

“Yes.” 

Merlin sighed, a mixture of relief and sadness. 

“Then of course, I will,” he said, sitting back down on the edge of Arthur’s bed. 

Arthur stood, walking towards the wall switch and putting out the lights. He crawled into his side of the bed, lying down wordlessly. He listened to Merlin’s movements, feeling the bed depress next to him as Merlin lay down. He could see Merlin’s silhouette in the dim moonlight that drifted through his window. He was facing away from Arthur. Arthur wondered if Merlin knew Arthur was facing him, if he could feel himself being watched even in the darkness. He probably could. He had magic. Who knew what he could do? 

 

Arthur, strangely, felt incredibly calm. He had answers. He knew why he felt like he didn’t fit in, ever. The simple answer was he didn’t. He couldn’t, not really, not completely. He wasn’t from here. Or rather, he wasn’t from now. He wondered, perhaps, if the feeling of displacement was something his father felt, if he, too, was from another time. Was that why he was never there? Was it easier to pretend he was normal, that he was just a man living out life as he should and not the reincarnation of a centuries-old king if he ignored the evidence, namely his son? Not that the evidence was incredibly clear, but it was tangible even in its unregistered form. It was like a sudden wave of nausea. You weren’t sure why it was happening or where it came from, but it was surely there. 

Knowing what he did, even if it made his life fall into a frame that fit for the first time in his memory, however, was not something that should induce calm. And yet, it did. Or maybe it didn’t. Maybe that was Merlin. Was Merlin manually inducing the calm with his gift? Arthur supposed he could be. He suspected it wouldn’t be the first time, in this life or the last, that Merlin had manipulated his emotions for his own good. But this time, he felt that it was entirely unintentional. He felt good, calm, content whenever Merlin was around, even before he knew who he was. 

No, he knew Merlin wasn’t doing this on purpose. He knew from the unevenness of the other boy’s breathing that he couldn’t be doing this; he wasn’t calm in the slightest himself. He supposed he didn’t blame him. He was brave tonight. If Arthur had any sense at all, he should have thrown Merlin out the moment he suggested he was the reincarnation of a dead king and that he himself was a wizard. Or maybe sense was the wrong word. If Arthur was less… aware of his own feeling of displacement and the strange happenings that surrounded Merlin, then he should have thrown him out. Merlin most likely even expected a bad reaction. It was the sensible thing to expect. He had probably had expected Arthur to yell at him, call him crazy and any other name he could pull out of his arsenal of insults. He could even still be expecting that, expecting Arthur to turn on him at any moment. 

 

Arthur reached out and lightly rested his palm flat on Merlin’s back, just between his shoulder blades.

Merlin tensed at his touch, then relaxed when he realized it was a gentle one.

Arthur began to move his hand ever so slightly, rubbing Merlin’s back in what he hoped was a comforting manner. He had never been a very tactile person. But it felt right. 

Merlin’s breathing became more even as Arthur rubbed his back. 

“Merlin?” 

“Hm?” 

“How did you know I was having nightmares if I didn’t even know?” 

“I was making you forget. They were never as detailed as they were tonight, so I never felt like it was time to tell you. When you’d call for me-” 

“I called for you every night?” 

“In your sleep, yes. When you would call, I’d come in and wake you. I’d ask you what it was and you could never tell me. You could only tell me that you had dreamed I was dead and we were in a forest and you were a knight. It wasn’t enough to tell you, but it was enough to make me want to.. I don’t know protect you. Maybe I shouldn’t have kept it from you, but it felt like the right thing,” Merlin answered. 

Arthur was quiet again, focusing on the way the other boy’s breathing felt under his hand. He supposed he wasn’t upset Merlin had kept it from him, but it did explain why he had been so tired. And why Merlin had been so concerned about his sleep schedule. 

“Merlin?” he asked again, although he knew the boy was still awake. 

“Yeah?” 

“Did you miss me?” 

Merlin made a choked noise before turning abruptly to face Arthur. He grabbed Arthur’s hand with his own and held it against his chest.

“Arthur. Is that even a question? You saw. You know we were… close,” Merlin said, his tone hushed and forcefull all at once. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“I felt as though I was cut in half when I lost you.” 

“I felt as though I was born with half of me missing until you found me,” Arthur said, his voice hushed. 

Maybe, he thought, love couldn’t wait until morning. Not with the way it consumed him now that he knew it wasn’t one-sided, or at least, once, it hadn’t been. He didn’t think it was now. Not with the way Merlin’s heart hammered away under the palm of his hand.

“I remember, I think,” Arthur began, thinking back to the memory- that is what he would call them if that truly was what they were- the red doublet had evoked, his touching Merlin’s face, leaning towards him, cutting off before he could know, really, what that closure of space had resulted in. “I think I remember the first time we kissed. Or part of it.” 

“Arthur, you don’t have to-” Melin warned.    
“I know. But I want to. Talk about it, at least.”

Merlin remained silent. Arthur’s hand remained in his, pressed up against the other boy’s chest. He liked it there. He liked feeling the heat of Merlin’s body, the nervous beating of his heart. It made him real. It made him human. It made him just as scared as Arthur. 

“Can I tell you what I remember?” 

“Yes.” 

“I remember- it must have been a banquet hall. I was in that red thing you saved. You were wearing what is by far the most stupid hat I have ever seen.”

“The feather one.”

“Yes, the feather one. You were pouring wine, I think. There must be parts of the memory missing, because from what I can recall, all I did the whole night was stare at you,” Arthur continued. 

“If it’s the same night I’m thinking of, then there isn’t anything missing. You got very stare-y when you drank,” Merlin replied, some of his earlier rigidness falling away.

“Hmm. I am sure you made sure I was liquored up then, because you didn’t appear to mind. The next thing I remember,” Arthur said, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks and thanking himself for putting  out the light earlier. “We were alone. You were helping me undress, and I couldn’t help myself from touching you. I don’t remember my exact thoughts, but it was something along the lines of it was sweet how shy you were and that… Well. That I wanted you. I remember leaning towards you, but nothing after that.” 

“That wasn’t our first kiss,” Merlin said. Arthur could hear the smile on his voice. 

“What?” 

“You kissed me then, but it wasn’t the first time,” Merlin continued. 

“When was?” 

“That day. Just before the banquet.” 

“Tell me,”Arthur murmured. They had moved closer to each other over the course of the conversation, and he was overwhelmed by Merlin’s body heat radiating off of him. He felt drugged, being so close so purposefully. He felt like he could stay there forever.

“It was the hat. You wanted me to wear the hat, I said no. I think you liked that about me. No, I  _ know _ you liked that about me. No one had ever been brave- or stupid- enough to tell you no before. I don’t know what told me I could without you tearing me apart, but I knew. So I told you no, I wouldn’t wear the fucking feather hat, just like that. I said it would make me look stupid, you said no stupider than usual, and I guess I must have pouted at that. I learned pretty quickly that my pouting went quite a long way with you, farther than you should have let it. You always let me get away with more than you should have. You said if I wore the hat, you would make it worth my while. When I asked how, you said I would see. I said I needed to know how now or I wouldn’t do it. You said if I wore the hat, then I would be part of the waiting staff that night, and I would be in charge of filling your cup and I could get you drunk. I asked how in the world would that be worth my while. And you, like a madman, might I add, as we were in an open hallway, said it was because you were more likely to do this if you were drunk, and then you kissed me,” Merlin said, sounding a bit far off. 

“What did you do?” 

“Kissed you back, obviously. Then I spent the entire banquet wondering if you would really do it again or if the first time was a lapse in judgement,” Merlin said. 

“Were you glad that I did? Do it again?” 

“No, I was right livid that the fit boy-  _ the prince,  _ might I add _ \-  _  I had spent every waking moment mooning over had kissed me- of  _ course  _ I was glad, you idiot,” Merlin laughed.

“What about now? What if I kissed you now? Would you be glad?” Arthur whispered. 

“If you did it because you really wanted to,” Merlin answered. “And not because you feel like you’re supposed to.” 

Arthur fisted his hand into the fabric of Merlin’s shirt, placing his free hand on Merlin’s hip. He leant forward, catching the other boy’s mouth with his own. He pushed Merlin onto his back, reclaiming his lips once he positioned himself above the other boy, taking his hand from Merlin’s chest and bracing it on the mattress. He deepened the kiss with his new found angle, pulling away only to breathe.

“Is that clear, then?” he asked, panting. “That I really want it?” 

“Yes,” Merlin breathed, bringing a hand to Arthur’s mouth and slowly dragging a thumb along his lower lip. 

“And you want it, too,” Arthur said, a statement despite his intent for it to be a question.

“It’s all I could do since I first came here to stop myself from doing this,” Merlin said, kissing him again, softly. 

“I wish I remembered more.” 

“You will, I think. In time. When you need to. There are things you’re going to wish you could forget,” Merlin murmured. 

“I’ll take a few unpleasant memories if it means remembering more of you.”

“There are painful memories with me in them, Arthur. Maybe even the worst of them.” 

“I’ve already remembered the worst, I think,” Arthur whispered, and he saw it again in his mind’s eye.  _ You couldn’t save me.  _

“I think you have. Most of it, at least,” Merlin agreed, pushing Arthur off him gently so he lay back down next to him. “I also think you should go to sleep. I could help.” 

Arthur perked up at this. He wanted to feel Merlin’s magic consciously, he wanted to know exactly it was while he was feeling it. 

“Alright,” he whispered. “Help.” 

 

He expected it to be more theatrical. Instead, Merlin simply folded his arms around him, pulling him in closer. He kissed Arthur, smiling at him softly when he pulled away. Arthur caught a glimpse of light flashing across the other boy’s irises and felt suddenly warm, like his veins had filled with molten gold. It was incredibly pleasant. 

“G’night, Merlin,” he muttered as sleep over took him. 

“Night,” Merlin whispered back. 


	11. Chapter 11

The first thing he registered when he awoke was that he was incredibly warm. The second was that he felt well rested for the first time in weeks. The third was that someone was actively drooling on his chest. It all came rushing back to him quickly, before he even had time to open his eyes. He was King Arthur and Merlin was his… his…  _ his,  _ plain and simple _.  _ And he was Merlin’s, maybe even more than he was King Arthur.

Merlin snorted, waking himself with the noise. Arthur opened his eyes to find Merlin groggily wiping the drool off of his chest with the corner of his t-shirt. 

“Sorry,” he said, blushing.

“”S fine,” Arthur said. “Is it something I’ll have to get used to?”

“It’s the price you pay if you share a bed with me,” Merlin quipped. 

“I may have to rethink all this, then. Not sure if I can handle a bit of drool,” Arthur smiled.

“Arthur,” Merlin began, sitting up and looking down at the other boy. “Are you sure? I’ve waited a few lifetimes. I don’t mind waiting longer until you’re ready. If you ever are.” 

“You worry too much. You think someone who has seen as much of life as you have would have learned worrying doesn’t get you anywhere,” Arthur said, pulling Merlin back down towards him. 

“I know. I know that. But it just… when you wait so long for something, it doesn’t feel right when you finally get it. It feels like maybe the universe will change its mind and take you away again,” Merlin said. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Of course, I understand,” Arthur said. 

Merlin sighed and nuzzled his head back into Arthur’s chest. Arthur ran his fingers through the other boy’s hair.. 

“Emily Rutherford is going to be disappointed, now that she’s lost her chance,” Arthur mused as they lay there. 

“Emily Rutherford never  _ had  _ a chance,” Merlin laughed. “Forget Emily Rutherford, everyone at Camelot Prep is going to be disappointed they lost out on  _ you _ . Not that you would know, because you never talk to anyone, but you’re a rather hot commodity.  If you ever feel like having a good laugh, imagine me seething while I had to listen to whispers about how cute you were when you answered a question in class.” 

“I’ll have to pay extra attention next time I’m particularly brilliant. It’s only fair, since you have had the pleasure of watching me lose my mind over someone else finding you somewhat more… interesting than normal,” Arthur said, thinking about Merlin’s study date- no, appointment- the Saturday before. 

“It’s hardly my fault you insisted on staying,” Merlin said. 

“I did  _ not.  _ You invited me to stay.” 

“Did I?” Merlin asked, stretching into the mattress. 

“Has it always been like this?” Arthur asked, relishing the warm, fuzzy feeling that seemed to be radiating from Merlin into his own body. 

“Yes.” 

“Even when things were bad?” 

“When things were bad, it felt like this was all we had.” 

“Were we ever bad?” 

“Difficult, sometimes. But never bad. Always worth it,” Merlin raised himself onto his elbows again, turning to look Arthur in the eyes. He leant down and kissed Arthur softly before pulling away again. “We should probably be getting up, morning breath.” 

“Oh yeah, what time is it?” Arthur asked, his heartbeat quickening, more from the kiss than the realization that it was a school day, and judging from the light outside, they were late. “Shoot,” he said, eyeing the clock and seeing it was after nine in the morning. “I’m sorry, Merlin.” 

“It doesn’t matter so much, now that you remember. I can just… fudge things around,” Merlin said, waving his hand vaguely. 

“You’re going to use magic to fix your  _ attendance? _ ” Arthur laughed. 

“Listen, when things were higher stake, I used magic for more worthy things, but for now, we’re skiving off school, so I will focus on making that a non-issue.” 

“Seem’s worthy enough to me,” Arthur smiled at the other boy. 

“Time to get up, then?” Merlin asked. 

“Definitely not,” Arthur replied, pulling the other boy on top of him. 

 

****

Arthur realized, later, while he was alone in the bathroom brushing his teeth, that he must seem incredibly juvenile to Merlin. Merlin, who had lived more lifetimes than any human had the right to, or rather, more lifetimes than any person should be sentenced to venture through alone. He knew, perhaps, that now that he had some knowledge of his past life back, that he may not be so innocent, at least not as innocent as his peers. One couldn’t be, not when they remembered how it felt to die. Not when he remembered what it felt like to be murdered, the fear and unfairness of it all. But still, as they lay in bed, kissing for hours and progressing no further, like teenagers, which for all intents and purposes, Arthur  _ was,  _ did Merlin feel incredibly old? Did he feel some sense of being above Arthur’s simple want, this first foray into being so close to another person without it feeling like a dream, a fantasy, a very distant memory at best? Was he simply humoring him? The thought made Arthur’s stomach turn. 

He wanted to say that Merlin couldn’t lie to him, that even the thought was impossible. But he had. In the past, and then again, even if by omission. But he could say, with confidence even, that Merlin did not want to lie to him. That he did not like it. That he wouldn’t, if he could avoid it. And now was definitely a time in which lies, by omission or otherwise, could be avoided. He was under no threat of death, and certainly no threat of treason. Unless Queen Elizabeth objected. 

The knock at his bedroom door made him jump. He left the bathroom to answer it, wiping the tooth paste residue from his lips. 

“You don’t need to knock, Mer- Father!” Arthur startled as he saw the man standing at the door. 

“I assume, then, the arrangement is going well, if he needn’t knock,” Uther said, looking Arthur over. “Aren’t you meant to be at school at this hour?” he added, eying Arthur’s pajama pants. 

“I wasn’t feeling well this morning, so I stayed home,” Arthur lied, quickly. 

“Don’t make a habit of it.” 

“What are you doing home?” Arthur asked, tensing. 

“I thought I would make sure you two weren’t at each other’s throats. Things didn’t seem all that pleasant when I left,” Uther said. 

It was incredibly awkward. Uther didn’t make any attempt to enter Arthur’s room, and Arthur didn’t invite him. He couldn’t remember the last time his father had been in it. He wasn’t sure he ever had been. 

“They’re fine. It was awkward at first, but that was only because it was unexpected. Things are fine now. We’re friends.”

“I’m glad,” Uther said, an unfamiliar tinge of relief in his voice. “Gaius will be happy to hear that.” 

Arthur, wondered, momentarily, who Uther spoke to when he communicated with Giaus, a man hundreds of years in the ground. Was it entirely imagined? Or was he speaking to Merlin, under some spell to believe he was speaking with his uncle? 

“Where is Merlin?” Uther asked, looking across the hall to the closed bedroom door. 

“I’m not sure,” Arthur answered slowly, glad that it had been now that Uther had arrived, and not an hour before. He wondered if his lips were still swollen. He wondered what was written on his face. He wondered if his father would mind. He couldn’t imagine that he wouldn’t. They had never spoken about anything like that. He had no idea what his father thought of men who liked other men.  _ Men like me,  _ the thought echoed through his mind. He thought, fleetingly, of asking Merlin to do something that made it possible for him to avoid confronting it forever, to somehow render his father blind of his son’s romantic pursuits, but decided against it. It would be unfair to Merlin. It would be unfair to himself. “His room, maybe? The library?” 

“He studies a lot?” 

“Yes. He’s very smart. Beyond his years,” Arthur said. 

“Good. A good influence, I hope,” Uther replied. 

“I like to think so.” 

Uther nodded, just once, approvingly. 

“How long will you be home?” Arthur asked, not sure what he hoped the answer would be. 

“Not long, unfortunately. I have to go to New York on business,” Uther said, looking anywhere but Arthur. 

“Hmm,” Arthur replied, Merlin’s idiosyncracy seeping into his own. He wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t surprised, and for the first time, he wasn’t disappointed. Not like he used to be.  He leant against the doorframe, waiting for his father to do something. To speak again. To leave. 

“Arthur, is-” his father cut himself off. It was the first time Arthur had ever seen him struggle for words. It was the first time he had seen him unsure of himself. 

He looked at him expectantly. 

“Is it easier? With him here? Are you-” his father furrowed his brow. “Are you happier?” 

“I wasn’t unhappy before.” 

“But you weren’t happy.” 

Arthur sighed, looking his father full in the face. 

“No. No, I wasn’t.” 

“And now?” 

“I am.” 

“You are?” 

“Yes. Immensely. Merlin is-” he paused, searching for the right thing to say to his father, who didn’t know him. Who didn’t know how he struggled, who didn’t know just how similar his son’s struggle may have been to his own. His father, who didn’t know the person he had distanced himself from most in this world was possibly the only other human who knew what it felt like to feel wrong, in the way Arthur imagined he did. “Father?” he said, feeling a strange surge of courage. 

“Yes?” 

“Have you ever felt like something was missing?” 

“Always. Your mother,” he said, quietly, the words sounding strange coming from his lips. He rarely uttered them, not after Arthur was old enough to know it was better not to ask about her. 

“Of course,” Arthur replied, gently. “But even before her.”

Uther was quiet for a moment before answering, “Yes. She made it easier, mind you. She felt like the only thing that fit, until you. But even before the two of you, yes. And after her, even more.” 

Arthur swallowed thickly, and nodded. It was the first time that Uther, as vague as it was, had alluded to Arthur being a good thing in his life. And it was the first time, ever, that his father had admitted to being in pain. 

“Me, too,” Arthur said. 

“I had hoped, maybe, that you wouldn’t feel that way, but I suppose… I suppose I knew you did. I haven’t helped,” Uther said. 

“I’m not telling you to make you feel guilty, Father,” Arthur said. He had the urge to touch his father, to hug him, to comfort him in some way, although he had never done the same for him. “I only wanted to know if you understood the feeling.” 

“All too well.” 

“Merlin is-” Arthur began again, pausing. “Merlin is one of the only things that fit,” he finished, echoing his father’s words. 

His father studied him for the briefest of moments before clapping his hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. 

“Then I am glad he is here. I’m glad something brought him to us. To you.  Maybe your mother. She was always fond of giving gifts.” 

“Yeah,” Arthur said, placing his hand on top of his father’s. “Maybe her.” 

Uther’s hand fell, Arthur’s falling with it. 

“I won’t be staying for dinner,” Uther said, regaining his composure. “But I would like to see Merlin before I go. I suppose I’ll go look for him.” 

“I can help,” Arthur offered. “He may just be across the way.” 

“No, you get dressed. I don’t mind you skivving off every once in a while, Arthur, we all do it, but no one respectable is in their pajamas past noon,” Uther said, but his usual judgement didn’t reach his voice. 

“I never claimed to be respectable, Father,” Arthur said, feeling brave enough to joke with him for the first time in his life. 

“No. You surely didn’t.” 

Uther smiled before walking across the hall to knock on Merlin’s door. 

Arthur closed his, wondering to himself if his father knew what he had really meant when he said Merlin fit. 

Surely not. 

 

***

“What,” Merlin said, bursting into Arthur’s room rather breathless, “did you  _ say  _ to him?” 

“To Uther?” Arthur asked, scooting over on the bed to make room for Merlin.

“No, to Santa Claus, you’ve gotten me on the naughty list- of course, to  _ Uther, _ ” Merlin said, collapsing onto the recently vacated space. 

“Just that it was going well, with you here. That we were friends,” Arthur said. “Why? Did he tell you off or something?”

“No! I wish he had, I’m used to that from him,” Merlin said, passing a hand over his face. “He didn’t say anything. He found me in the kitchen,  _ hugged me _ and left.” 

“I think,” Arthur said, shocked. “I think he was trying to say thank you. In his way.” 

“His way is unsettling, to say the least,” Merlin said, turning over on his stomach, leaning on his elbows, and looking up at Arthur. 

“He’s trying his best,” Arthur shrugged, moving his leg so it was flush against Merlin. Because it was allowed. 

Merlin shifted, moving his arm so he was half hugging Arthur’s leg, tracing a fold in the fabric of his jeans with his finger.

“It made me realize,” Merlin said, “that there was something you’ll remember eventually that will upset you, and I should tell you before you do.” 

“My father reminded you?” Arthur asked, unable to focus on much other than Merlin’s hand on his leg.

“I mentioned your father wasn’t a fan of magic, the first time around,” Merlin began, staring at the fold he was tracing rather intently. 

“Yes?”

“In truth, he had outlawed it. Sorcery was punishable by death. Even the most benign use of magic would get you up on the stake,” Merlin said, quietly. “People were burned for using magic in their household chores.”

“But you?”

“Few knew about me. Gaius and a couple others. Others like me,” Merlin said.

“But not me,” Arthur said.

“No. Not you. I kept it from you. You trusted me implicitly, Arthur. And I was a criminal, in the eyes of our kingdom,” Merlin whispered. 

“You thought I would-“

“No. When you were angry with me, maybe, the possibility of you punishing passed through my mind. Not killing-“ Merlin stopped when Arthur tried to interject again. “But maybe banishment. Exile. That would have been worse than death. I didn’t want you to have to make that choice,” Merlin said. “So I lied. By omission. Because it was better that you didn’t know. I would only use magic to help you, Arthur, of course. But you wouldn’t have liked it much. You didn’t, when you found out.” 

“When did I?” he asked, his heart clenching. Merlin had been scared of him, had every right to have been. He hated that. 

“The night you died, I told you. You spent the last few hours of your first life angry with me. Not so much about the magic, I think, but that I hadn’t told you. I had shared our bed, our life, but not that part of me,” Merlin said, his voice cracking. 

“Merlin, I-“ 

“Let me go on.”

“Alright,” Arthur said, stopping Merlin’s worrying fingers by taking them with his own. 

“You didn’t die angry. Sad, but not angry. You thanked me. But it is my greatest regret that I didn’t tell you sooner,” Merlin said. “I thought, maybe, you wouldn’t have died if I had. I know, now, that it was all part of some plan that was written for us. That it would always end up there, you dying in my arms and me waiting for you to come back to me. To all of us.” 

Arthur squeezed his hand, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill from his own eyes. He never let himself cry, but it was proving difficult to stop now. Did he cry when he was a king? 

“I wanted to tell you, now, before you remembered. I didn’t want to keep that from you, again. I only want you to know I kept it from you because I loved you. Because it would have been too hard a choice to make. You were already risking so much, to be with me the way you were,” Merlin finished, and Arthur realized the other boy was crying, too.

“Thank you, Merlin. For telling me,”Arthur said softly, taking his free hand to brush away Merlin’s tears with his thumb. “I love you, you know. Then and now.”

“I may be a liar, but I’m not daft,” Merlin laughed, snot shooting out of his nose.

“Ew, ok I take it back,” Arthur said, laughing and kicking his leg from Merlin’s grasp. 

“Tissue, tissue, help,” Merlin said, holding a cupped hand to his face. Arthur threw him a tissue from the bedside table, taking one from himself and quickly wiping his eyes while Merlin was distracted.

“You know how to kill a moment, Merlin,” Arthur said, once the crisis was averted. 

“My poor timing is part of my charm,” Merlin smiled at him, but there was still a tinge of sadness in his eyes.

“Merlin. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that you had to hide like that. From me, from everyone. You seem very gifted-“

“Most powerful to ever walk the earth, actually.”

“What?” Arthur stuttered. “You?? But you’re so…”

Merlin smiled.

“What am I, Arthur? An idiot?”

“I was going to say gentle. Kind.”

“Oh,” Merlin exhaled as if he had been hit in the stomach. 

“I don’t know why I expected any less. The greatest king to ever walk the earth would have the most powerful sorcerer as a partner. But what I was going to say was I am sorry you had to hide, but you don’t from me. Not anymore,” Arthur said.

“Thank you,” Merlin replied. 

 

“I know I’ve already seen you at work,” Arthur began, “and felt your magic, but could I see something else?”

“What do you want to see?” 

“You can change the way you look, can’t you? Otherwise you’d look older than dirt by now.”

“Yes, but on another note, ouch.” 

“I want to see what you looked like when I met you,” Arthur said. “How old were we then?”

“You had just come of age, I believe, so somewhere around twenty-one. We peasants weren’t so good at keeping our exact age, but I was around eighteen when I came to Camelot,” Merlin said.

“I’m older than you?”

“A little, yes. Well, you were.” 

“Let me see,” Arthur said.

“Or you could just wait a year and a half. I’ll let myself age gradually, like a normal person,” Merlin said.

“I want to see what you looked like when I fell in love with you,” Arthur whined.

“Oh, Arthur, we were hardly love at first sight. You tried to clobber me with a mace,” Merlin laughed.

Arthur strained his mind, sifting through foggy memories until he found one that felt right.  _ Friend. Prat. Do you know how to walk on your knees. Maces and tripping and defiance. He doesn’t care you’re a prince, Arthur had thought. And doesn’t that make you mad. So mad you could kiss him.  _

“You called me a prat,” Arthur smiled, his head hurting slightly.

“That I did. Nearly died for it,” Merlin said.

“I wouldn’t have killed you.”

“You had me fooled.”

“I was mad because I liked it,” Arthur said slowly, reliving the memory again. “I, the crown prince of Camelot, was being made a fool of by some… No one who had quite literally just strolled through the gates and didn’t care who I was, and I wanted to kiss you stupid for it.”

“Really?” Merlin said, genuinely shocked. “You never told me that.”

“Maybe I’d forgotten.”

“I’m sure you didn’t. As for me, I wanted stab you in your sleep for about the first week,” Merlin said. “Loathed you.”

“Then what happened?”

“I called you a proper knobhead and you laughed. And then you called me a disgrace to my position, but you didn’t mean it. Any other prince would have had me in the dungeons for that, but you let me speak to you like that,” Merlin smiled at him. “After that I thought you weren’t so bad.”

“And when did you decide I was fit?” Arthur asked, tugging Merlin towards him. 

“Oh, way before that. Right around when you tried to kill me with the mace,” Merlin said, kissing the tip of Arthur’s nose. “I thought, well, if I have to get killed by the most asinine, stuck up, arrogant prat in the world, at least he looks like that.” 

“Let me see you,” Arthur said. 

“I think I’ll make you wait,” Merlin said. “Choose something else.”

Arthur huffed, annoyed, and tried to think of something good. 

“Make something.” 

“Make something?”

“Yes, out of thin air. Conjure something,” Arthur said, sitting up straighter in anticipation.

“Ok. This won’t be the real thing, but it will look just like it,” Merlin said, closing his eyes. 

“Keep them open,” Arthur breathed.

“Why?” Merlin said, amused.

“They do something. They go all good.”

“Hmm. And you like that, do you?” Merlin asked with a devilish smile.

“I might,” Arthur said, his cheeks hot. Something about Merlin being so powerful made his stomach go all funny, made his body feel hot. He wanted to see it again, to get a proper look at it. 

“Alright, weirdo,” Merlin said. He murmured something that Arthur didn’t understand, probably never would, holding his hands out above the bedspread. His eyes flashed golden, hot, like molten metal was fighting to escape them. Arthur thought he had never looked so pretty. 

Unable to stop himself, Arthur grabbed Merlin’s face and pulled him into a searing kiss, a painful kiss, the first kiss he had shared with Merlin that completely overwhelmed his senses and robbed him of reality.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, pulling away. 

“I’m relieved you think so,” Merlin chuckled, a bit shocked. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his finger and gestures towards the bed.

A sword had appeared when Arthur had been otherwise occupied, a beautiful sword with runes carved into it, and Arthur knew it was his. Or was a recreation of his.

“Ex…” he paused, not wanting to get the name wrong. He knew it, but that knowledge had never seemed pertinent to him beyond its association with his name. “Excalibur?” 

“Not really, but just like it,” Merlin confirmed. “I would know. I spent a million hours polishing it.”

“Oh, so you were in charge of polishing my sword, Merlin?” Arthur said, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

“You’re disgusting,” Merlin sighed. 

Arthur picked up the sword, feeling its weight.

“Careful,” Merlin warned.

“I’m  _ King Arthur,  _ I can handle a sword,” Arthur said, feeling a bit lightheaded with how right it felt to be holding it.

“Yes, but you haven’t in, I don’t know, a few centuries, and I’m rather fond of all my limbs. And yours,” Merlin smiled. 

“This is incredible, Merlin. You’re incredible.”

He wanted to try out a couple moves, but there simply wasn’t room his bedroom and his neighbors would talk if they saw him swinging a sword about the back garden. He sighed as he placed it back on the bed. 

Merlin murmured something else and the sword disappeared as easily as it had come, soundlessly and without a trace. 

“I imagine we’ll find the real one eventually. Once we determine why you’re back.”

“Right. The once and future king,” Arthur said, repeating the words he has seen on books that he had thought were about a man of myth but had really been about himself all along. He suddenly wished he had read them. Though, in his memory, all the legends of him included Merlin as an old man, which probably meant they were wildly inaccurate. 

“Come back to save Albion, from what I am sure we will know once it comes. Although I can’t imagine fate will have you saving the world at sixteen,” Merlin continued. “So we have time.” 

“And until then?” 

“Until then, you go to school. We piece together your memories so you know yourself again, as I know you. We live, Arthur. We’ve earned that. Just living,” Merlin answered, sounding all of his hundreds of years wise in that moment. “We do homework, play video games, maybe go to university, travel, build a life.”

Arthur paused, feeling incredibly young at the thought that came to his mind. 

“Do we go to dances?” he asked. 

“What do you mean?” Merlin asked.

“There’s a dance, at school. Coming up,” Arthur said, his hands suddenly clammy. 

“If you want to go to the dance, then we will,” Merlin smiled. “It might be fun.” 

“Would you go with me?” Arthur managed, unsure of why he was nervous to ask boy who had spent the night in his bed, a boy who had loved him for tens of lifetimes, to accompany him to something as trivial as this. 

“As your date?” 

“Obviously.”

“I know we’ve joked about people being jealous, Arthur, and it’s worlds easier now to be in a relationship like ours now than it was when… when we met, but it’s a big decision. To go public. People will talk,” Merlin said, carefully. 

“They’ll talk now or they’ll talk later. I want to go to a school dance with a boy I love. Let them talk now. Like you said, we’ve earned it,” Arthur replied. “Besides, now you have an excuse for when Emily asks you. You have a date. You’re going with your  _ boyfriend.” _

“Oh so  _ that’s _ what this is. You want to stake a claim, Arthur Pendragon. How utterly… you that is,” Merlin laughed. 

“So you’re going.”

“Is that an order,  _ Sire,  _ or a question?” 

“A question,” Arthur said, reddening. 

“Then it’s a yes,” Merlin smiled. “I’ll go to your bloody school disco.” 


	12. Chapter 12

“Can I hold your hand?” Arthur asked, meeting Merlin on his side of the car. It was their first day at school since the whole revelation, and Arthur had wanted to stay home, but Merlin had insisted that even kings need to learn. It was hardly his fault he thought kissing in bed was far more interesting.

“You want to do it now? I thought we were waiting until the dance to drop that bomb,” Merlin laughed. 

“What, and bring the whole thing to a halt? We should get them used to the idea now,” Arthur shrugged, trying to ignore the way his heart pounded. 

“We’ve never,” Merlin stuttered. “We have never done this. In public.”

“Well, oldtimer, even you should try new things,” Arthur replied, feigning confidence. 

Merlin hesitated then held out his hand for Arthur to take. 

“Has there ever been a same sex couple at Camelot Prep?” he asked as Arthur twined his fingers between his. “Do we know how they’ll react?” 

“They’ll react fine. You forget that I am  _ the  _ Arthur Pendragon. I dare someone to try something. They know they’ll end up on their back with a black eye before they can even finish a sentence,” Arthur said, unsure of whether he was reassuring himself or Merlin. 

 

They walked on to campus, hand in hand and nothing happened. The world didn’t stop. They weren’t egged or stoned, or even yelled at. People looked, a few eyebrows raised, but mostly, no one seemed to care. 

 

“See?” Arthur said. “This is  _ allowed.”  _

Merlin said nothing, and squeezed his hand.

 

*** 

“Arthur,” a whisper hissed from the desk next to him.

Emily.

“You said Merlin wasn’t seeing anyone,” she pouted, but it only seemed half genuine. 

“He wasn’t. At the time,” Arthur replied.

The class talked rather boisterously around then, waiting for the bell to ring.

“You could have told me that  _ you  _ liked him. I would have backed off. I feel terrible that I flirted with him in front of you,” Emily said.

“Who says I like him?” 

“Everyone!!! You!!! You were holding his hand this morning, everyone saw!”

“Maybe we’re just incredibly European,” Arthur smiled. He had expected Emily to be angry. This was much better. 

“But you aren’t,” Emily replied. 

“No, we aren’t,” Arthur agreed, his smile widening. 

“I’m happy for you, Arthur. That you found someone,” Emily replied. “We all wondered why you were so permanently off the market. You were just waiting for someone to come along.”

“Not someone, Emily. I was waiting for Merlin,” he replied, and even he was sick at how affectionate he sounded.

“God,” Emily sighed. “I hope someone looks as absolutely smitten about me one day as you do about him.”

“I wish that for you, too, Em,” Arthur said. He meant it.

 

*** 

“I’m suddenly far more interesting to everyone now that I’m your boyfriend,” Merlin said, falling into step next to Arthur as they walked to the lunch room. “No one used to talk to me much, but now I can’t get a second alone.” 

“Pendragon!” a voice echoed across the lunchroom before Arthur had a chance to respond. It had sounded from his old lunch table, the football team’s  table.

Eli was smiling at him from across the room, gesturing for him to come over.

Arthur looked at Merlin nervously before obliging.

“Yeah?”

“You want to introduce us to some one?” Eli asked, eying Merlin once they were in appropriate speaking distance. 

“Oh, uh sure. Everyone this is Merlin. Merlin, this is… well. Everyone,” Arthur said, gesturing at the table. 

“Hey,” Eli said, extending a hand to Merlin and shaking. “I’m Eli. Used to be Arthur’s teammate before he left us in to suffer without him.”

“Nice to meet you,” Merlin said, shyly.

“You know, half the school has been trying to bag Pendragon for years, and you show up and do it within a few months. Can’t say I’m not jealous,” Eli winked at him.

“What, were you trying, E?” Arthur joked.

“Well, that shows how well that went, seeing as you didn’t know,” Eli smiled sheepishly.

“Not that we all didn’t,” Jack, another teammate, chimes in. “A real horror show to watch him fail so miserably.”

Arthur felt slightly shocked, unable to speak.

Thankfully, Merlin replied for him. 

“Once I figure out how I did it, I’ll be sure to tell you,” he said. “Not that I plan on letting him back on the market anytime soon.” 

“Sit,” Eli said, scooting to make room for them. “Tell us, is he absolutely rubbish at kissing? I reckon he is.”

“Don’t answer that,” Arthur said, laughing. 

 

And for once, things were easy.

 

*** 

 

Three months later

  
  


“I didn’t expect you to come home for this, Father,” Arthur said. 

“Well, it’s not every day you send your son off to his first dance,” Uther said, rather stiffly.

“I appreciate it,” Arthur said.

 

They were stood on the front stairs, waiting for the car Arthur had ordered to come pick them up. Merlin was upstairs, under the guise of getting dressed, but Arthur suspected he really wanted him to have time alone with his father.

“I hope.. I know you aren’t exactly supervised, but I hope you’ve been sleeping in your own rooms. Or at least being safe,” Uther began, rather haltingly. 

“Dad, ew, I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t worry. That’s not.. on the table yet,” Arthur said, trying not to choke on his own spit and horror. 

“It’s my job as a father,” Uther said. “To be concerned.”

“We’re smart,” Arthur assured him.

“I know. I know you want things to go right with him. I want them to as well. For both of you,” Uther said. “Do you think you’ll marry him?” 

“Father! It’s only been a few months!”

“That’s not a no.”

“I don’t know.”

_ I would like to,  _ he added mentally.

“He looks at you like I did at your mother. He loves you, Arthur. Don’t.. take that for granted.”

“I… Thank you, Father. I wasn’t sure you would approve,” Arthur said quietly.

“I knew the moment you said what you did about him fitting, Arthur. I want someone to make you feel like that. I don’t care who he is,” Uther replied. “Who am I to deny my only son happiness?”

 

In that moment, Merlin appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in a black suit and a gold tie. Arthur had insisted, joking that it matched his eyes. He looked beautiful. 

 

And nothing else mattered. Merlin was there, ready to take whatever the world threw at them together, even if tonight the only thing being thrown at them was a school dance. His father approved of him, approved of them together, and Arthur couldn’t have asked for more. It didn’t matter that in that moment, a boy named Mordred was born on the other side of the country. It didn’t matter that in that moment, the moonlight hit a sword at the bottom of an ancient lake for the first time in hundreds of years, a shimmer unnoticed even by the fish that swam past it. Maybe in twenty years, when Mordred began to remember himself, and the king he loathed, it would matter. 

But tonight, it didn’t. Tonight, it was just him and Merlin. And that was enough. 


End file.
